When the FX drama “The Bear” arrived out of nowhere in the summer of 2021, it was thrilling, a bolt of “Uncut Gems”-like electricity coursing through the veins of damaged, traumatized characters trying to survive not only the high-pressure-cooker stress of a highly dysfunctional kitchen setting but their highly dysfunctional and broken lives. Ebon Moss-Bachrach, who plays Cousin Ritchie on the show, perfectly described the series in our season one interview as “high-sodium volatility”; no one was coked up on drugs per se (though sometimes they were), but the surging blood pressure anxieties of their environment and lives made for a brilliantly toxic and gripping show about generational trauma, grinding through life and surviving grief.
(*Note: There are mild spoilers about guest stars in season three, but 90% of them are returning celebrity stars from season two and won’t be significant surprises; we’ll avoid the rare new ones*).
Season two went minor key, delved into more character flashbacks, and found some romance, but it was equally compelling. But just two years later, “The Bear,” in its third season, seems to have run out of stovetop gas, delivering a patchy, unfocused, occasionally brilliant, but often frustrated and distracted season that feels like it’s repeating itself and spinning its wheels.
“The Bear” was born out of profound grief, award-winning chef Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White), returning home to Chicago to run his family’s sandwich shop following the tragic suicide of his older brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal) and then butting heads with his the shop’s co-manager Cousin Ritche (Moss-Bachrach) and the rest of the staff, due to Carmy’s relentless quest for trying to square-peg fine-dining restaurant rules into a slapdash sandwich spot.
Without spoonfeeding too much but explaining much of the toxic backstory, season two examined the painful history of much of the extended Berzatto family’s collective trauma. But season three, picking up right after the end of season 2—where Carmy essentially sabotaged his relationship with his lovely girlfriend Claire (Molly Gordon, who appears in a few flashbacks but mostly sits out the season) by making a hasty, flustered confession about letting his guard down for love, which she overheard— feels like it’s spinning the same plates and rarely says anything fresh about its themes or character.
Season two ended with the question: must an artist sacrifice love and happiness for success? Must an artist be a monk-like samurai free of distractions to achieve pure perfection? In season three, despite how much he misses Claire and realizes he f*cked up, for Carmy, the answer is a resounding yes, and the brilliant but troubled chef doubles down on the ambitions of realizing unalloyed flawlessness becoming his own worst enemy again and essentially making himself the villain of season three; pushing everyone too far unrealistically, hyper-fixated and making everyone’s lives miserable in the process.
And tonally, it’s an odd show. The low-key first episode, “Tomorrow,” is quiet, melancholy, and a brilliantly atypical way to start the season: Carmy reflecting on the past, Claire, and the creation of his impossible “non-negotiables” list that he’s about to unveil to the Bear restaurant staff (soundtracked entirely to a loop of Nine Inch Nails’ moody and atmospheric “Together”).
The staff obviously reacts poorly to the unreasonable and overbearing demands of the non-negotiables (changing the menu every day, impracticable standards across the board), and then the season is off and running again in a regression of season one chaos and frantic pandemonium all because, again, Carmy has become too agitated tightly-wound again in his grief of losing Claire.
This is the constant theme of the series: compartmentalization, avoidance, and burying yourself in work to elude the pain of your heartache—and, in Carmy’s case, a heaping dollop of self-sabotage served on top of the dish. But it’s repetitive, worn territory and feels akin to a relapse, emotionally and narratively.
“The Bear” frustrates like this in season three. The show is terrific with vibes; Carmy is still reckoning with his traumatic past, the way former chefs mentally abused him, and his fallout with Claire. And, of course, creator Christopher Storer’s use of music (John Cale, NIN, Brian Eno, Eddie Vedder) is ace, making for many gutting moments.
But when the series reverts to its anarchic shouting-matching in the kitchen and in sequences that go on for too long, it all starts to feel exhausting rather than exhilarating as it did in the beginning.
Season three is full of returning guests: Will Poulter as Luca, Jamie Lee Curtis as Carmy’s dysfunctionally short-circuiting mom “Dee Dee,” Gillian Jacobs as Richie’s ex-wife Tiffany, and Olivia Colman as Chef Andrea Terry (among a few others, including Bernthal). Still, very few, if any, of them add much emotional value to the show—the critical missing ingredient this season—other than Tiffany’s heart-to-heart scenes with Richie about attending her wedding.
Ironically, of all the guest star spots (and there’s at least one big one that feels like flimsy stunt casting), easily the best and one that pops the most is mostly non-actor: screenwriter/showrunner Brian Koppelman (co-creator of “Billions”), who plays “Computer,” the ruthless money-guy accountant of Bear restaurant patron Jimmy “Cicero” Kalinowski (Oliver Platt), concerned that the establishment is turning into a money pit. Analyzing the numbers, Computer says the numbers and cost/spend ratios are dire and urges cutting back or just closing up shop.
And many of the detours don’t work or are shortchanged. Marcus (Lionel Boyce) grapples with the death of his mom from season two. Still, aside from one scene with Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), this heartbreak isn’t interrogated in any especially new manner. And it’s heartening in theory that Tina Marrero (the excellent Liza Colón-Zayas) gets her own flashback episode to tell her anguishing story of financial worry and struggle that led her to The Bear in the first place (which resonates in this economy), but it also feels like a filler episode that takes away from the main story’s momentum.
What is that story this season exactly? Essentially, they are just desperately trying to keep the restaurant profitable or afloat despite Carmy’s idealistic, impracticable demands that make that goal untenable, again killing morale in the process.
One of the more intriguing elements of season three, though held over from season two, is the idea that Sydney has had enough and cannot tolerate or deal with Carmy’s frenzied madness. A lucrative job offer makes her hit a come-to-Jesus crossroads: stick with The Bear or take off to new ventures, but it’s a grueling decision to make, and she essentially melts down trying to grapple with the choices.
Created by Christopher Storer, who directs and writes 90% of the season (directing and writing or co-writing seven of ten episodes), some episodes are woefully undercooked. Episode eight, “Ice Chips,” featuring Jamie Lee Curtis and credited to co-showrunner Joanna Calo, is likely meant to feel like an immersive documentary-style deep-dive into the relationship between a mother and daughter (Carmy’s sister Natalie, played by Abby Elliott), but the fatiguing episode backfires. Feeling entirely improvised and not fully written, possibly made up on the day, it’s the unrelenting qualities of “The Bear”—once hyper-engaging and emotional—that curdle into something ceaselessly draining (and the hectic editing of the Duccio Fabbri-directed episode three is wearying too).
The finale episode, set in Chef Andrea’s famous restaurant with all the leading players in the same room, also feels a little made-up: endless talky scenes that don’t illuminate much and feel like first drafts at best.
Season three ultimately boils down to an unexpected restaurant review that’s looming, its verdict unknown, and its outcome make or break for the Bear establishment. But it’s in this regard, with a “to be continued” ending, where “The Bear” feels like a half-finished, underbaked season.
Now, for all these complaints, “The Bear” is still a watchable show, thanks to the cast, but season three is a disappointment nonetheless. Allen White, Edebiri, and Moss-Bachrach are highly engaging, and the way Matty Matheson’s Neil Fak character steps up is interesting too, but the writing generally underserves them all in a filler, spinning-its-wheels season that feels like a placeholder waiting for season four (and thank god, they didn’t rush ahead and shoot it like originally intended, because that feels like it surely would have been disastrous). Can “The Bear” recover for what obviously feels like an impending final season? As the chefs love to remark in their perfectionist dissatisfaction, this dish must be refired and fast. [C+]
“The Bear” is streaming all its episodes on Hulu now.
