Veteran actor Arturo Puig joins the final season of El encargado on Disney+, portraying a weary President of the Nation. Filmed in early 2025 following the death of his wife, Selva Alemán, Puig’s role marks a pivotal return to the screen and a reflection on the evolving Argentine entertainment landscape.
For those of us who have tracked the trajectory of Argentine prestige TV, the arrival of the fourth season of El encargado isn’t just another drop in the streaming queue. It represents a collision of eras. You have Guillermo Francella—a titan of both comedy and drama—playing the Machiavellian Eliseo, now rubbing shoulders with Arturo Puig, a man whose career serves as a living bridge to the “golden age” of broadcast fiction. It is a masterclass in casting that blends the cynical modernism of streaming with the disciplined, “traditional school” ethos of the theater.
The Bottom Line
- The Role: Arturo Puig portrays a “white,” innocent version of the Argentine President, serving as a foil to Francella’s calculating character.
- The Emotional Core: The project served as a therapeutic outlet for Puig following the passing of his wife and longtime partner, Selva Alemán.
- Industry Shift: The series highlights a critical transition from linear broadcast television to Disney+ and other platforms to retain Argentine fiction viable.
When the Curtain Almost Didn’t Rise
In the world of high-stakes production, we often hear about “creative differences,” but the reality of the performer’s psyche is far more human. Puig recently shared a glimpse into the obsessive nature of Guillermo Francella that is as endearing as it is terrifying. During their time together in the play Nuestras mujeres, Francella’s passion for his football club, Racing, nearly derailed a live performance.
Here is the kicker: Francella, seeing Racing lose on television just before curtain call, reportedly urged Puig to tell the audience the show was suspended. Imagine the scene—a full house, the lights dimming, and a lead actor so devastated by a sports loss that he considers canceling the entire evening. Puig, ever the professional, refused to budge. The result? A comedy where the lead was visibly crushed, leaving Puig fighting a losing battle against laughter in the wings.
This anecdote isn’t just a funny story; it speaks to the intense, often volatile passion that drives the top tier of Argentine talent. It is that same intensity that makes El encargado work. The chemistry between Puig and Francella is built on a foundation of mutual respect and a shared history of the “hard way” of doing things—where the script is law and the performance is everything.
The “Old School” Discipline in a Digital Age
Puig’s reverence for the written word is a relic of a bygone era, and it’s one we desperately need back. He recalled his time with the legendary Alberto Migré on Pablo en nuestra piel, where a single word change—swapping cup
for glass
—was enough to trigger a correction from the master himself. No, no, no, no. No suena igual,
Migré had insisted. That level of precision is what separates a mere performance from a piece of art.
But the industry has shifted. We are seeing a move toward “content” rather than “fiction,” a distinction that Puig and producer Carlos Rottemberg view with concern. The fear is that without the steady stream of television fiction, the “stars” of tomorrow aren’t being forged, leaving theaters like those on Corrientes Street without the star power needed to attract the masses.
To understand the scale of this shift, we have to look at how regional content is now being aggregated. The “Streaming Wars” have forced a consolidation where local production houses must align with global giants to survive.
| Era | Primary Distribution | Talent Pipeline | Economic Driver |
|---|---|---|---|
| Broadcast Era | Free-to-Air Channels | Daily soaps/Variety shows | Ad Revenue / Ratings |
| Transition Era | Cable / Pay-TV | Limited series / Theater | Subscription Fees |
| Streaming Era | Disney+, Netflix, Max | Globalized Co-productions | Subscriber Churn / ARPU |
The Legacy of Giants: Brandoni and Aristarain
The final season of El encargado also serves as a poignant space for reflection. Puig spoke with deep admiration for Luis Brandoni, describing him as an extraordinary actor
with a uniquely “porteña” way of speaking that defined a generation. Brandoni’s influence extended beyond the screen into the political and professional spheres as a leader of the Asociación Argentina de Actores, navigating the complexities of exile and professional struggle.
Similarly, Puig’s memories of working with Adolfo Aristarain in Lugares comunes reveal a director with an almost supernatural intuition. In an era where directors are glued to monitors, Aristarain operated by instinct, standing beside the cameraman and knowing exactly what was being captured without ever looking at a screen. This “gut-feeling” directing is a lost art in the age of CGI and meticulously storyboarded digital frames.
This transition reflects a broader trend in the global entertainment industry. As we move toward algorithmic content creation, the raw, human intuition of directors like Aristarain and the linguistic precision of Migré are becoming rare commodities.
“The lack of fiction influences and will influence much. If there is no fiction, You’ll see no figures to lead people to the theater.” Arturo Puig, Actor
The Future of the Argentine Screen
Puig isn’t just looking back; he’s eyeing the future. His foray into the directorial side of the camera on El encargado—suggesting angle changes that the director welcomed—shows a veteran still eager to learn. He is now actively pursuing further platform-based series, recognizing that streaming platforms are the only reason Argentine fiction hasn’t vanished entirely.
The industry is currently grappling with “franchise fatigue” and a pivot toward leaner, more sustainable production budgets. For a veteran like Puig, the goal isn’t the “billion-dollar” hit, but the preservation of the craft. By bridging the gap between the prestige of the theater and the reach of Disney+, Puig is helping ensure that the “old school” doesn’t just survive, but thrives in a digital ecosystem.
But here is the real question for the fans: Do you prefer the polished, monitor-driven precision of modern streaming hits, or do you miss the raw, intuitive energy of the “old school” maestros? Let us know in the comments—we want to hear if you reckon the “soul” of Argentine fiction is evolving or disappearing.
