Watching Vincenzo often feels like stepping into something far beyond a simple K-drama. It is like entering a suspended, elegant and decadent world where contemporary Korea meets the imagery of Italian mafia cinema, European noir and the emotional sensitivity typical of Korean storytelling. Everything coexists within the same space: drama, absurd comedy, sudden violence, restrained romance and that silent melancholy constantly surrounding the protagonist.
And perhaps this is Vincenzo’s greatest magic.
Because Vincenzo Cassano is not just a character. He is a man without a homeland.
Born in Korea as Park Joo-hyung and adopted as a child by an Italian mafia family, he grows up in Italy learning to survive through ruthless, cold, almost ritualistic rules. He becomes a consigliere for the Cassano mafia family, speaks Italian, drinks red wine like a European aristocrat, listens to classical music and dresses like a boss from a 1970s mafia film. In the K-drama, Vincenzo Cassano’s adoptive brother and rival is named Paolo Cassano. He is the biological son of the Italian mafia boss who adopted Vincenzo as a child and, after his father’s death, becomes the new head of the Cassano family. Paolo sees Vincenzo as a threat both to his power and to the mafia family’s inheritance, and it is precisely this conflict that leads Vincenzo back to South Korea.
The character is portrayed by Italian actor Salvatore Alfano.
In the drama, he mainly appears in sequences set in Italy or in moments connected to Vincenzo’s mafia past, reinforcing that European gangster movie atmosphere which makes the series feel so unique. Yet deep inside Vincenzo there is still something profoundly Korean. When he returns to Seoul after the death of his adoptive father, he appears almost like a ghost. He walks slowly, observes everyone from a distance and seems to belong nowhere and to no one. And yet, the very Korea he initially considers only a temporary stop will eventually force him to rediscover his humanity.
Geumga Plaza becomes far more than a narrative location. It becomes an emotional home.
Behind its seemingly chaotic walls lives an incredible human microcosm: eccentric shop owners, lonely people, failed artists, broken families, men and women who survived the harshness of life. At first they all seem ridiculous, almost like caricatures from a theatrical comedy. But episode after episode they become the emotional heart of the series. And this is where Vincenzo truly changes tone: it stops being only a revenge drama and becomes a story about belonging and the desperate need to find someone willing to stay.
Alongside Song Joong-ki we find one of the strongest and most unusual casts in recent Korean drama history.
Jeon Yeo-been plays Hong Cha-young with almost unpredictable energy. She is loud, impulsive, theatrical and emotional. The complete opposite of Vincenzo’s controlled coldness. Yet they understand each other precisely because both hide deep emotional wounds. Their relationship never truly begins like a classic K-drama love story: it grows slowly, built on glances, silences and mutual protection.
Then there is Ok Taec-yeon, probably one of the series’ biggest surprises. His Jang Jun-woo shifts from childish comedy to psychotic madness within seconds. A terrifying villain precisely because he initially appears innocent. Behind that awkward smile hides one of the cruelest and most disturbing characters in the entire drama.
Yoo Jae-myung instead represents the moral conscience of the series: a man who continues believing in justice even within a completely corrupted system.
Surrounding them is an extraordinary ensemble cast:
- Kwak Dong-yeon
- Kim Yeo-jin
- Jo Han-chul
- Yang Kyung-won
- Kim Hyung-mook
And then there are them: the Italian actors.
A crucial detail often forgotten when discussing Vincenzo. To make the Italian mafia universe believable, the production included numerous Italian and European performers, creating an atmosphere completely different from classic Korean dramas.
Among them:
- Luca Villacis
- Stefano Lagati
- Riho Fujimori
The sequences set in Italy therefore carry a completely different aesthetic: colder tones, European cinematic photography, slow camera movements, luxurious villas immersed in silence, dark rooms illuminated by golden chandeliers and dining tables openly recalling The Godfather.
The Italian inspiration is everywhere.
In Vincenzo’s gestures.
In the way he pronounces Italian phrases.
In the portrayal of the mafia as a family system more than simply a criminal organization.
In the aesthetic taste of tailored suits.
In the wine.
In the opera music.
Even in the violence, never random but almost “choreographed.”
Screenwriter Park Jae-bum explained that he wanted to create a protagonist who was both fascinating and morally ambiguous, inspired by anti-heroes from Italian and American gangster cinema. Not the classic righteous Korean hero, but an elegant and dangerous figure capable of frightening and protecting at the same time.
Even the interior locations were built with enormous visual attention.
Geumga Plaza, although inspired by Seoul’s real Sewoon Plaza, was largely recreated through highly detailed interior sets. The narrow corridors, warm lighting, retro-style apartments and Babel Group offices constantly reinforce the contrast between humanity and ruthless capitalism. Babel’s interiors, on the other hand, are intentionally cold and geometric: glass, steel, white lights and enormous empty spaces transmitting isolation and power. In contrast, the spaces inside Geumga Plaza feel lived-in, imperfect and nostalgic. Even the Italian restaurant frequented by Vincenzo was designed to evoke that elegant and romantic cinematic Italy the protagonist still carries inside himself.
During filming, the cast repeatedly explained how difficult it was to maintain the emotional balance of the series. On the same day they could shoot an absurd comedic scene and immediately afterward an extremely violent or emotional sequence. And it is probably this controlled chaos that made Vincenzo so unique.
The global success exploded almost immediately.
Korean audiences were struck by the narrative structure, completely different from classic television dramas, while international audiences finally saw a K-drama capable of openly dialoguing with Western cinematic language without losing its Korean identity. And perhaps Vincenzo continues to be loved today precisely for this reason: because beneath the mafia, revenge and luxury, it is not power that is being told, but loneliness.
And then she arrives. The true invisible protagonist of many Korean K-dramas: love.
But in Vincenzo, it does not explode like an instant fairy tale. It is not born from perfect confessions or dreamy love at first sight. It arrives slowly, almost quietly, through silences, restrained glances and wounds slowly learning to recognize each other.
And it is precisely this suspended, intense and melancholic delicacy that makes their story so irresistible.
And this is exactly what makes it so intense.
When Song Joong-ki meets Hong Cha-young, played by Jeon Yeo-been, there is no immediate romance between them. At first there is mainly distrust. Vincenzo is cold, controlled and elegant to the point of seeming unreachable. Cha-young instead is chaotic, loud, impulsive and theatrical. She laughs loudly, changes mood constantly and moves like a storm inside every scene. They seem incompatible.
Cha-young is one of the first people to truly look beyond Vincenzo’s armor. Behind the flawless mafia consigliere she sees a deeply lonely man, incapable of living normally, someone used to surviving more than being loved. Vincenzo instead finds in her something he had lost years earlier: spontaneity, human warmth and imperfection.
Their relationship grows through small details.
Long glances.
Shared dinners.
Moments of silence.
Mutual protection.
Trust slowly born during the war against Babel Group.
They do not need to constantly say “I love you.” In Vincenzo, love is told differently: through presence. Vincenzo protects Cha-young almost instinctively, often without even realizing it. She, meanwhile, becomes the only person capable of slowly bringing him back toward his more human side. One of the most beautiful aspects of their relationship is that Cha-young never tries to “save” Vincenzo from his darkness. She knows exactly who he is. She knows he has killed people and lives according to moral rules far removed from normality. Yet she continues choosing to stay beside him. Not because she considers him perfect, but because she understands the pain he carries inside.
Vincenzo also changes because of her.
For the first time in years, he slowly stops living only for revenge or survival. He begins desiring something simple and almost impossible for someone like him: to stay. And this is where their story becomes melancholic because Vincenzo never forgets who its protagonist truly is.
Vincenzo Cassano belongs to a world made of violence, blood and endless escapes. He cannot have a normal life. He cannot truly stop. And the drama maintains this consistency until the very end. Their love therefore remains suspended, incomplete and painfully realistic. Despite the extraordinary chemistry between the actors, the series refuses to transform into a classic romantic story. Even the famous kiss arrives late, sudden and almost restrained, as if both already knew their time together was limited.
And perhaps this is exactly what made international audiences fall in love with it.
The relationship between Vincenzo and Cha-young is not built on romantic clichés but on continuous emotional tension. Every gesture feels important precisely because it is rare. Every moment together carries the weight of something that could disappear at any second. Many fans especially loved the fact that Cha-young never loses her identity beside Vincenzo. She never becomes simply “the protagonist’s girlfriend.” She remains strong, brilliant, unpredictable and often even fiercer than him. In the end, theirs is not just a love story but the meeting of two wounded people slowly learning to trust someone in a world where trust itself feels impossible.
