‘Berlin and the Lady with an Ermine’ (2026) Netflix Series Review - A Soapy, Seductive Heist Drama

I have never been much of a fan of Pedro Alonso's portrayal of Berlin. I could have expanded more on the "why" part of this statement, but I have very few memories of this character from both Money Heist and Berlin and the Jewels of Paris. He never managed to leave a lasting impression on me—not even during his 2023 Netflix prequel outing. Perhaps this is why I have never been fond of Berlin; he has always been a somewhat forgettable presence. My notions, however, undergo a thrilling challenge in Berlin and the Lady with an Ermine, in which I found both Alonso and his master thief character to be incredibly fabulous. I think the first scene that turned me into a fan came early in the first episode, when Berlin, after realizing that he has been tricked into planning a heist by a duke named Álvaro Hermoso de Medina (José Luis García-Pérez), sits at a table and scoffs like a lady pissed at an employee for getting the color of her nails wrong. It's a delightfully feminine expression—Berlin seems to be getting in touch with his inner woman. Alonso appears free and spirited. He revels in each and every second. Watching him euphorically murmur to himself in the presence of great paintings hidden in a room deep inside a tunnel, you can't help but both laugh at and adore this man luxuriating in art like a teenager experiencing his first orgasm.

Is this the same Berlin that I initially thought of as unremarkable, or have the creators altered him for the prequels? Whatever they have done, it works wonders. If this is how Berlin is going to be, I don't mind sitting through more Berlin prequels. There's another key aspect to The Lady with an Ermine that sets it apart from other productions in this universe. When I think of Money Heist, all I can recollect is its shrewd deployment of twists and turns that admittedly grew tiring and predictable after the third season (the first two were more than sufficient and quite excellent). I don't remember much of what happened in The Jewels of Paris, though I can faintly recall a few plot twists there as well. What's so pleasing about The Lady with an Ermine is that it doesn't try to prove itself smart by smugly and constantly pulling the rug out from under you every second. It's also possible that the creators themselves know this trick has grown old. You can't recycle the same narrative strategies forever without making them feel boring, bland, and outdated.

So what does The Lady with an Ermine do? It replaces shock with soapy melodrama. If the show is a vault, then the characters are its keys, unlocking the door to not piles of cash but matters of the heart. Berlin is smitten with Candela (Inma Cuesta), an active, hot-blooded woman who burns her ex-boyfriend's RV as revenge for stealing something from her. Cuesta plays the role like someone who sees herself as a sultry goddess. You believe she can drive men crazy, that she can set them on fire with her seductive looks. Once Candela is impressed by Berlin, she doesn't seduce him so much as overwhelm him with sensual force. Berlin submits himself completely to this woman, to this intoxicating emotional and sexual experience. Candela is always on. When she's involved with a man, she gives the relationship everything she has. This is why she asks for Berlin's full commitment early on. She doesn't want to spend her energy on someone who isn't serious about her.

Then there is Keila (Michelle Jenner), who's torn between two lovers—Bruce (Joel Sánchez) and Claudio (Jason Fernández). She says she loves them both. If Bruce signals domestic comfort, Claudio promises wild thrills and an artist's intellect and passion—he is a photographer, after all. Keila, with her short hair and wide-open eyes framed by glasses, comes across as a cute cartoon figure. She bounces between the two men like a kid confused as well as excited by different candy flavors. It's hardly a spoiler to reveal that Keila eventually confesses to Bruce about her affair, giving rise to that expected line where he asks whether her lover made her come. But since this confrontation occurs in the middle of an operation, it adds a nice dramatic tension to the ongoing mission. It makes the scene more fun. By contrast, the conflict between Roi (Julio Peña) and Cameron (Begoña Vargas) feels cold—almost like an afterthought. It doesn't help that, in the latter episodes, Cameron is separated from the team and sent off on a yacht mission treated like an optional side quest. Most of Cameron's actions are glimpsed only in fragments. And since her love affair never catches fire, the melodramatic payoff doesn't land with emotional fervor.

I wish the series had made the duke a little smarter. He is simply thrown into the equation as a catalyst who sets the heist in motion. Whatever personality the duke possesses comes almost entirely from García-Pérez's performance. The character himself is pretty insignificant. His wife, Genoveva (Marta Nieto), too, doesn't get enough material to work with and thus never quite manages to break free from her narrow function as a trophy wife enamored with a new geezer. Nonetheless, The Lady with an Ermine gives the duke the kind of farewell that, in theory, sounds moving, wrenching, and powerful. If not all of these emotions erupt onscreen, blame the writers for conceiving a shallow, uninteresting character. García-Pérez, though, somewhat saves the scene. Then again, in The Lady with an Ermine, almost everything that could have gone wrong would have gone wrong were it not for the talented actors. The story leans heavily into tropes suited for grand, soapy melodrama, which could easily have turned disastrous with a cast lacking the skill to do justice to the genre's demands. All the actors here, however, bring emotional sincerity and a sense of grandeur to cheesy dialogue. They open their hearts with declamatory enthusiasm and are so attuned to the show's conventions that they infuse honesty into developments that might otherwise seem hastily assembled—like a love affair between a boss and his guardian.

There is one blind spot in the series that no one seems to have noticed. When Cameron tells Berlin that she will search the boat to locate some bags, he warns her not to take such a risk, as it would endanger her safety. But Cameron goes through with the plan anyway and sends pictures of her discoveries to Berlin via her phone. This should immediately tell Berlin that Cameron has not only defied his orders but may also be in danger. Isn't this precisely why he told her to back off? Then why doesn't he do something for her? He doesn't even seem angry that Cameron ignored his command and put herself at risk. He simply accepts the photos as if the earlier conversation between them never happened. While watching the show—and now in hindsight—it feels as though the creators were determined from the beginning to get rid of Cameron. She seems strangely disposable, like someone included purely out of contractual obligation. It's a pity that Vargas isn't granted more screentime here. She probably could have rescued that ending from feeling emotionally distant.

Another creative choice that doesn't sit well is the blatant Money Heist fan service involving the Professor's (Álvaro Morte) appearance. His presence, in the context of the story, makes sense; yet when he enters in slow motion, the series encourages you to cheer for him in the same way superhero movies ask audiences to applaud cameo appearances. The Lady with an Ermine can't entirely shake off the stink of fan service. It shouldn't indulge in such practices at all. These prequels should try to stand on their own feet. They would be much better if they trusted themselves in the same way the actors trust and submit themselves to this material. The Lady with an Ermine, after all, is a heist, a manipulative scheme, worth falling for.

Final Score - [7/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times