She refused to be broken by the circumstances that destroyed her
Em um país onde a novela das nove é há décadas um ritual coletivo, a estreia de Quem Ama Cuida na Globo trouxe algo além do esperado: não apenas uma história sobre perda e recomeço, mas um elenco que parece compreender o peso do que está sendo contado. Cinco atores, em particular, revelaram na semana de abertura uma profundidade que transforma boa escrita em experiência humana genuína. É o tipo de fundação que sustenta meses de narrativa — e, às vezes, algo que permanece depois que as câmeras se apagam.
- Leticia Colin, após dois papéis consecutivos de vilã, conquistou à força uma protagonista definida pela resiliência — e entrega uma performance que ancora toda a trama.
- Tony Ramos, com mais de seis décadas de carreira, encontrou nos olhos úmidos de um pai diante da enchente um momento que nenhum roteiro sozinho poderia criar.
- Isabel Teixeira constrói o narcisismo de Pilar em gestos mínimos — a postura afetada, o celular que não larga enquanto a filha implora por atenção — com precisão cirúrgica.
- Deborah Evelyn navega a manipulação de Carmita por dentro, como quem conhece o sabor da ambição disfarçada de amor materno.
- Rosi Campos, carregando décadas de personagens icônicos mas subutilizados, encontra em Diná uma complexidade ainda por revelar — entre devoção, ciúme e possível jogo duplo.
Quando Quem Ama Cuida estreou na Globo nesta semana, ficou claro que o texto de Walcyr Carrasco e Claudia Souto havia encontrado intérpretes à sua altura. Cinco atuações, em especial, sinalizaram que a novela das nove tem fundação para sustentar meses de narrativa.
Leticia Colin lidera como Adriana, uma fisioterapeuta que perde emprego, casa e marido em um único dia de enchente catastrófica. Ela brigou pela chance de fazer o teste para o papel — uma escolha deliberada depois de dois papéis de vilã seguidos. O que entrega é uma protagonista que se recusa a ser destruída pelas circunstâncias ou diminuída pelas pessoas ao redor.
Tony Ramos, veterano com mais de seis décadas de televisão, encontrou na sequência pós-enchente um momento que transcende o roteiro: a câmera fixou seus olhos enquanto Otoniel via seu único bem ser engolido pela água. Mais tarde, ao lado de Adriana no reconhecimento do corpo do filho, equilibrou choque e compaixão com a naturalidade de quem não precisa mais provar nada — embora uma latente homofobia em relação ao neto prometa tensões futuras.
Isabel Teixeira, revelada ao grande público como Maria Bruaca em Pantanal, constrói Pilar de forma oposta às vilãs que interpretou antes. Esta mulher não é cruel por escolha — é incapaz de enxergar além de si mesma. Teixeira traduz esse vazio em pequenos gestos: a postura de quem finge refinamento que não tem mais, o olhar no celular enquanto a filha Ingrid tenta, em vão, ser ouvida.
Deborah Evelyn traz a Carmita uma compreensão íntima de como a manipulação funciona por dentro. A personagem orquestra uma farsa elaborada para casar a filha com um homem de posição — e Evelyn navega essas cenas como quem conhece o território moral em que a personagem habita.
Rosi Campos, para gerações diferentes sinônimo de Tia Morgana ou Mamuska, encontra em Diná — a empregada apaixonada pelo patrão Arthur — um papel com camadas ainda por desdobrar. Entre a devoção aparente, o possível ciúme de Adriana e um humor discreto nas cenas de cozinha, a personagem promete revelar dimensões da atriz que o público ainda não viu.
Juntas, essas cinco atuações sugerem que Quem Ama Cuida não depende apenas de sorte no elenco. A história sobre perda, deslocamento e as fraturas que o desastre expõe nas famílias encontrou atores capazes de honrar seu peso — e o que vem a seguir dirá se conseguem sustentar esse nível ao longo dos meses que estão por vir.
When Globo's new prime-time drama Quem Ama Cuida premiered this week, it arrived with more than just a solid script from Walcyr Carrasco and Claudia Souto. The opening episodes revealed an ensemble cast operating at a level that transforms competent writing into something worth watching. Five performances in particular stood out—not because they were flashy, but because they suggested the network had assembled actors capable of sustaining a story across months of broadcast television.
Leticia Colin carries the show as Adriana, a physiotherapist whose life collapses in a single day marked by catastrophic flooding. She loses her job, her home, and her husband. Colin had to fight for this role, requesting an audition despite her established reputation. The choice mattered. After playing two recent villains—Vanessa in Todas as Flores and Zélia in Garota do Momento—she risked being typecast into similar antagonistic parts. Instead, she stepped into something different: a protagonist defined by resilience rather than malice. Adriana refuses to be broken by the circumstances that destroy her, and refuses to be diminished by the people around her, including her father-in-law Arthur and his sister Pilar. Colin's performance anchors the entire enterprise.
Tony Ramos, a television veteran with more than six decades of work behind him, delivered moments that cut deeper than the script alone could carry. In the sequence immediately following the flood, Ramos played Otoniel watching his only property succumb to water. The camera found his eyes—wet, devastated—and held there. Later, when Adriana identifies her dead husband's body, Otoniel's reaction balanced shock and compassion in a way that felt earned rather than performed. Beneath this grief lies another dimension: a latent homophobia directed at his grandson Mau Mau, a tension that promises to deepen as the story unfolds.
Isabel Teixeira has spent years waiting for television to recognize what theater audiences already knew. Her breakthrough came as Maria Bruaca in Pantanal, a role that made her a household name across Brazil. Before Quem Ama Cuida, she had played two villains—Helena and Violeta—but Pilar operates differently. This character cannot see beyond her own reflection. She attaches to nothing and no one except what they can provide her, particularly her brother Arthur's wealth. Teixeira constructs Pilar's narcissism through small, precise actions: the affected posture of a woman pretending to be refined even when circumstances have diminished her, the way she focuses on her phone while her daughter Ingrid desperately tries to speak with her. The performance suggests a woman incapable of genuine connection.
Deborah Evelyn spent years playing fragile heroines before Beatriz in Celebridade revealed she could inhabit something harder and more complex. Carmita, her character in Quem Ama Cuida, is a social climber determined to marry off her daughter Bruna to Pedro, a man she believes represents security and status. When Bruna becomes pregnant—or appears to—Carmita orchestrates an elaborate deception, convincing another pregnant woman to take a test in her daughter's place and helping her avoid prenatal appointments. Evelyn navigates these scenes with a performer's understanding of how manipulation works, how it feels from the inside. The character has room to grow, and Evelyn seems ready to take her there.
Rosi Campos carries a particular weight of television history. For one generation, she is Tia Morgana from Castelo Rá-Tim-Bum. For another, she is Mamuska from Da Cor do Pecado. Television has rarely given her characters as substantial as those two since. Diná, the housekeeper in love with her employer Arthur, offers something new. She appears devoted to him, but her presence alongside his siblings suggests a double game—whether motivated by jealousy of Adriana or by something more calculated remains unclear. Beyond this central tension, Diná possesses a particular humor, evident in scenes where she banters with other household staff in the kitchen. The role promises to reveal dimensions of Campos that audiences have not yet seen.
These five performances, delivered in the opening week, suggest that Quem Ama Cuida has built its foundation on more than casting luck. The story itself—rooted in loss, displacement, and the fractures that emerge when disaster strips away the structures holding families together—has found actors capable of honoring its weight. What comes next will test whether they can sustain this level of work across the months ahead.
Citações Notáveis
After playing two recent villains, Colin risked being typecast into similar antagonistic parts. Instead, she stepped into something different: a protagonist defined by resilience rather than malice.— TV critic analysis
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter that Leticia Colin specifically asked for this role? Couldn't she have just been offered it?
Because asking for it means she saw something in Adriana that she needed to play. After two villains in a row, she could have waited for another antagonist—that's the comfortable path. Instead, she pushed for something that required her to be different.
Tony Ramos has been on television for sixty years. What makes his performance in this flood sequence stand out from everything else he's done?
The camera stays on his eyes. For sixty years, he's learned how to make a moment feel true without announcing it. Here, the truth is just water and loss and a man watching it happen. He doesn't perform grief—he inhabits it.
Isabel Teixeira's character Pilar sounds almost cartoonish—a woman who only cares about money and can't see beyond herself. How does that become compelling?
Because Teixeira plays it in the small gestures. The phone in her hand while her daughter needs her. The way she holds her posture even when she has nothing. Narcissism isn't loud—it's the absence of anyone else mattering at all.
Deborah Evelyn's character orchestrates a fake pregnancy. That's a significant deception. Does the show ask us to sympathize with her?
It asks us to understand her. Carmita believes she's protecting her daughter by securing a good marriage. The deception flows from that logic. Whether we forgive it depends on what happens next.
Rosi Campos has been waiting decades for a substantial role. What does Diná offer that her previous characters didn't?
Ambiguity. She could be a woman in love with her employer, or she could be part of something darker. That uncertainty—that refusal to be simple—is what gives an actor room to work.