The city is already there at the moment of filming
In the long tradition of storytellers who build worlds to make audiences believe, Globo's production team for Quem Ama Cuida chose to construct reality rather than simulate it — erecting houses on an artificial lake, unleashing real water, and surrounding their actors with a living image of São Paulo rendered in light. The result, premiering this week, represents a convergence of practical craft and digital intelligence that quietly raises the threshold of what Brazilian television dares to attempt. It is a reminder that authenticity, even in fiction, has a cost — measured here in 270 people, one week, and thirteen thousand square meters of engineered consequence.
- A telenovela's opening flood sequence demanded something television rarely attempts: water that was genuinely destructive, not merely suggested.
- The production compressed months of 3D simulation and safety engineering into a single week of filming across three locations, with 270 professionals managing wave generators, high-pressure hoses, and purpose-built debris.
- A 200-square-meter LED panel replaced the green screen entirely, projecting live São Paulo storm footage so actors could respond to a city that was visibly drowning behind them rather than imagining it.
- AI-enhanced visual effects then expanded the cityscape, deepened the rainfall, and wove digital elements seamlessly into footage that was already grounded in physical reality.
- The premiere airs today — and what viewers encounter is not a technical showcase but a catastrophe designed to feel inevitable, the kind of opening that makes a story impossible to abandon.
When Globo's team set out to film the flood sequence opening Quem Ama Cuida, they confronted a problem the usual tricks of television couldn't solve. They needed real, moving, destructive water — and actors who could survive it. So in March, across São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, they built something that hadn't quite been attempted before.
The centerpiece was a thirteen-thousand-square-meter artificial lake at Deodoro's Parque Radical, where three full-scale houses were engineered to withstand the force of water unleashed against them. Tony Ramos, Leticia Colin, and the rest of the cast performed in and around these structures as the water came. Over one week, 270 people worked to make it real.
The technical apparatus matched the ambition. Wave generators, high-pressure hoses, and carefully designed debris created the image of a drowning city. But the production's most striking choice was a 200-square-meter LED panel displaying live São Paulo footage under storm conditions. The actors weren't performing against a blank screen, imagining the city — the city was there, rendered in light and movement, rain falling, traffic visible behind them. As production manager Isabel Ribeiro put it, the LED meant the cast didn't have to imagine their environment the way green screen demands; the environment was already present.
Layered over the practical effects, AI tools expanded the cityscape, intensified rainfall, and integrated urban elements into the sequence. Every floating object, every piece of debris, was deliberate — the result of months of design and testing by the art department.
What emerged was a flood that looked real because it partially was — controlled, safe, and narratively shaped. Viewers today will encounter it not as a technical marvel but as the catastrophe that sets everything in motion.
When Globo's production team set out to film the opening flood sequence for Quem Ama Cuida, a telenovela premiering this week, they faced a problem that couldn't be solved with the usual tricks of television drama. They needed water—real, moving, destructive water—but they also needed their actors to survive it. So in March, across three locations in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, they built something that had never been attempted quite this way before.
The centerpiece was a thirteen-thousand-square-meter artificial lake constructed at Deodoro's Parque Radical. Three full-scale houses were erected on its banks, engineered to withstand the force of water that would be unleashed against them. The cast—Tony Ramos, Leticia Colin, Isabela Garcia, Jesuíta Barbosa, and João Victor Gonçalves among them—would perform in and around these structures as the water came. Over the course of a single week, two hundred and seventy people worked to make it happen.
The technical apparatus was as ambitious as the concept. High-pressure hoses, wave generators, adapted vehicles, and carefully designed debris were deployed to create the illusion of a city drowning. But the production didn't rely on illusion alone. A two-hundred-square-meter LED panel was installed on set, capable of displaying live footage of São Paulo under storm conditions. This meant the actors weren't performing against a blank green screen, imagining the city around them. The city was there, rendered in light and movement, rain falling in the background, traffic visible, the full sensory weight of an urban flood happening in real time behind them.
Amora Mautner, the artistic director, described the challenge as one of scale and authenticity. The team had chosen to build the flood practically rather than conjure it entirely through digital means, a decision that demanded months of three-dimensional simulation and safety planning. "We decided to do it differently, to increase the truthfulness," she said. "I'm very happy we found a viable path that will convey the impact these scenes demand." Isabel Ribeiro, the production manager, explained what the LED technology meant for the actors' performance. "With the LED, the city is already there at the moment of filming. You're recording with a living image of São Paulo in the background, with light, movement, traffic happening. It brings much more realism to the scene and helps the cast tremendously, because they don't have to imagine the environment the way they would with green screen."
The digital work layered on top of the practical effects was equally sophisticated. Visual effects teams used artificial intelligence to expand the cityscape, intensify the rainfall and particle effects, and integrate urban elements into the flood sequence. The art department, led by Cris Bisaglia, had spent months designing and testing set pieces—vehicles, boats, floating objects—that would move through the water while maintaining the visual and narrative coherence of the scene. Every element, from the choreography of debris to the specific objects chosen to float, was deliberate.
What emerged from this convergence of practical engineering, LED technology, and digital enhancement was something the Brazilian television industry hadn't quite attempted before: a flood sequence that looked and felt real because it was partially real, but was also controlled, safe, and narratively shaped. The premiere airs today, and viewers will see the result of this megaoperation—not as a technical achievement to marvel at, but as the opening moment of a story, the catastrophe that sets everything in motion.
Citações Notáveis
We decided to do it differently, to increase the truthfulness. I'm very happy we found a viable path that will convey the impact these scenes demand.— Amora Mautner, artistic director
With the LED, the city is already there at the moment of filming. You're recording with a living image of São Paulo in the background, with light, movement, traffic happening. It brings much more realism to the scene and helps the cast tremendously.— Isabel Ribeiro, production manager
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did they choose to build an actual lake and flood it instead of doing this entirely with digital effects? Wouldn't that have been cheaper and safer?
Cheaper, maybe not—this was clearly a massive investment. But safer, yes, probably. The thing is, the director wanted something that would feel true to the actors in the moment. You can't fake that kind of presence. When water is actually moving around you, when you can feel the spray and see the real light bouncing off it, your body knows. The camera sees it.
So the LED panels—they're not replacing the practical effects. They're working alongside them.
Exactly. The water and the destruction are real. The city in the background is LED. Together, they create something neither could alone. An actor can't imagine São Paulo convincingly while standing in a tank of water. But if São Paulo is right there, rendered in light, they can react to it authentically.
The artificial intelligence piece—what's that doing in a flood scene?
Expanding and intensifying what's already there. Making the rain heavier, extending the cityscape, adding details that make it feel like the entire metropolis is drowning, not just a corner of it. It's the invisible layer that makes the practical and the LED work feel like a single, coherent disaster.
Two hundred and seventy people for one week. That's a staggering amount of labor for what amounts to maybe ten minutes of screen time.
Maybe less than that. But it's the opening. It's the event that breaks everything else in the story. You can't rush that. You can't fake it. You have to build it, engineer it, light it, film it, and then spend months refining what you captured. That's the cost of wanting it to feel real.