Netflix’s Berlin and the Lady With an Ermine arrives with all the swagger, silk shirts, and smirking charm fans expect from the world of Money Heist. And while it takes a couple of episodes to truly settle into its rhythm, once it does, the series slips into a deliciously stylish groove.
At the centre of the plot is the irresistible Andrés de Fonollosa, better known as Berlin, played with magnetic ease by Pedro Alonso. He remains exactly the kind of thief audiences fell for the first time around: theatrical, vain, romantic, manipulative, oddly philosophical—and impossible to look away from. Alonso clearly knows this character inside out, and plays him like a man perpetually performing for an invisible audience. Even when the writing occasionally leans too heavily into his eccentricities, he carries the show with flair.
A standout support comes from Tristán Ulloa as Damián, Berlin’s closest confidant and intellectual partner-in-crime. Ulloa gives the character warmth and restraint, grounding Berlin’s flamboyance with dry wit and emotional intelligence. Their friendship becomes the emotional backbone of the show, often more compelling than the romance or the robbery itself.
And yes, for fans still emotionally attached to the Professor, Álvaro Morte pops up in a late cameo that feels more like fan service than narrative necessity. Does it meaningfully change the story? Not really. But if you’re a Professor loyalist, the appearance lands like a small gift wrapped in nostalgia.
The series isn’t flawless, though. The pacing wobbles early on, and some subplots feel more decorative than essential. But it is stylish, witty, and unapologetically indulgent. This is a crime drama that prefers charm over chaos. And honestly, Berlin wouldn’t have it any other way. What ultimately makes Berlin and the Lady With an Ermine work is its confidence in its own excess. The show understands that Berlin is not a hero in any conventional sense; he is selfish, reckless, and frequently intolerable. But the series wisely leans into that contradiction instead of sanding it down. There is an operatic quality to the way he moves through the world—treating crime like performance art and seduction like a competitive sport. And it turns out to be undeniably entertaining.