‘The Bear’ Season 3 Still Cooks, but on a Low Simmer
“Let it rip.” Ever since Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) read these words in a note from his late brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal), they’ve become the de facto motto for a series that does indeed love going for broke. The debut season was an unrelenting introduction to the grueling life of restaurateurs, especially those still reeling from the loss of a family member who also happened to leave them in debt deeper than Chicago’s deepest-dish pizza. (We’re talking Pequod’s here, not Lou Malnati’s.) An ambitious Season 2 kept the heat up, as Carmy & Co. remodeled the greasy spoon sandwich shop into a Michelin-worthy fine-dining establishment, but it spread the fire more evenly across its core ensemble and top-shelf guest stars.
In short, it ripped, and it did so in a way Season 3 can’t and doesn’t across 10 new episodes. But the popular slogan still applies. Back in the first season’s finale, when Carmy finally gets up the nerve to speak about Mikey (to his Al-Anon support group), he talks about how much confidence his brother instilled in him. “When I was a kid, if I was nervous or scared to do something, he would always just tell me to face it, to get it over with. He would always say — it’s stupid — ‘let it rip.'” Just as Mikey has been the impetus for so much of “The Bear,” his motivational words spur Carmy, Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) and the rest of the staff to move forward when fear stands in their way. “Let it rip” helps them face the challenging, borderline masochistic work that they love to do because it reminds them why they’re doing it. They’re doing it for Mikey. They’re doing it for themselves. They’re doing it because not doing it means giving up.
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Only in Season 3, they’ve lost that confidence. Carmy’s meltdown inside the walk-in refrigerator shattered his faith in the work-life balance he’d barely started to square. His self-perceived failure to be there for his team (and Syd in particular) leads him to further isolation and a fiercer commitment to his all-consuming craft. Yet for as much as he tries to live by the “non-negotiables” he writes down as a staff mission statement/personal manifesto, doubts linger in his memories. There’s the trauma from his time in a toxic New York kitchen under an abusive but talented head chef (Joel McHale). There’s the fear that he’s not good enough to cook with the big boys unless he’s pushed beyond the brink, as he was then. And then there’s Claire (Molly Gordon), the halcyon embodiment of everything good that exists outside his kitchen, and thus, outside his grasp.
I can’t tell you how many times I shouted, “Let it rip!” at various characters in “The Bear” Season 3, as crucial confrontations were delayed and indecision bled from characters to those shaping their arcs. But Carmy — who feels even more prominent this season — is a good reminder why confidence is often only able to be earned, rather than remembered. It’s easier for him to double down at work because he’s done it before. He’s lived with that pain, and he’s survived (as the scar on his hand reminds him). But he doesn’t fully understand the benefits of a well-rounded life, of letting love in and taking the time needed to nourish it. So facing Claire, who’s lived as a hopeless crush in his memory for so long it’s probably a simple transition for her to become his biggest regret, is harder. It takes more time. He has to find the confidence elsewhere, even if his brother’s words still ring true.
Syd is similarly shaken. While proud of how she stepped up on opening night, she’s always been wary of Carmy’s aggressive tendencies, and she felt abandoned and ignored during the restaurant’s remodel. Now that he’s thrown himself entirely into the Bear, she has to wonder if it’s an over-correction. What will an “all work and no play” lifestyle do to his fragile psyche, and how will it affect their perpetually unbalanced working relationship? Such concerns gain greater urgency when she’s presented with a partnership contract at the Bear, and she has to decide whether committing to the chaos of this particular kitchen is worth the risk.
At the Bear, the general vibes aren’t great. Richie and Carmy refuse to settle their beef. Marcus (Lionel Boyce) turns inward after the loss of his mother. Jimmy (Oliver Platt) can’t wrap his head around massive bills for microgreens and all the other exorbitant costs of running a gourmet kitchen. (A scene with his accountant, known simply as The Computer, is among the season’s best.) Natalie (Abby Elliott) is stressed her soon-to-arrive baby will inherent the same paternal scarring she did, and that still leaves the rest of the crew — like Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), who gets her own episode, and the Fak brothers (Matty Matheson and Ricky Staffieri), whose outspoken affability is leaned on harder than ever for comic relief — to pick up the slack for their wayward bosses, or just try to get by until the apologies are accepted, the beefs are squashed, and the Bear gets its mojo back.
At times, the show mirrors its titular restaurant’s diminished mojo. Season 3 is too comfortable reliving the past instead of facing the future. A certain amount of self-reflection is healthy, but too much, especially on TV, causes stagnation, and “The Bear” drags out too many questions for its own good. The restaurant’s first review hovers as the season’s biggest turning point. Major conversations that, from the jump, clearly have to happen are put on hold again and again. Even topics that are relatively minor to the plot but meaningful to the show’s larger themes — like the debate over tipping — are introduced, dropped, and left unresolved.
To that end, Chistopher Storer, who writes and/or directs a bulk of the episodes, puts an added emphasis on bringing reality into “The Bear,” without making the extra effort to incorporate real places and real chefs into the narrative itself. Last season, Sydney got her very own Taste of Chicago, touring various upscale restaurants to learn from her acclaimed peers and gain inspiration for the Bear’s menu. That was good fun and quite rewarding because it positioned one of the show’s best characters as an audience proxy, allowing us to feel like we’re sitting right next to her at Kasama, Publican Quality Meats, and Pizza Lobo. But it was also part of her job, part of the Bear’s evolution, and part of a personal arc, as well. (Carmy was supposed to join her, but he blew it off to spend time with Claire.)
This season, an early episode deploys a sitcom-esque montage of a working Chicago morning, complete with papers coming off the printer at the Tribune, coffee being poured at Metric (which, yes, has the best coffee in Chicago), and hot dogs getting packaged at Vienna Beef. Set to Pearl Jam’s cover of “Save It For Later,” the sequence is easy to like yet hard to justify, since it has zero connection to our characters. Maybe it would be nice and sweet as a one-off, but similar indulgences repeat throughout the season, as beautiful episodes grow redundant while also struggling to provide significant payoffs. (The finale embodies too many of Season 3’s hiccups by overindulging on food celebrities and ending with an unearned “to be continued.”)
A stronger reflection of the real-world’s influences comes from anxiety over fine dining’s economical sustainability, which Storer alongside co-writer and executive producer Joanna Calo use to infuse tension and stakes within its core cast. While I would argue they spend a little too much time talking about why they cook — typically, for the joy of serving others and the people they meet along the way — such positive, heart-warming incentives help balance out the doom and gloom floating over the Windy City. Plus, taking a step back to examine the big picture allows the series to savor moments inherent to classic, long-running TV shows.
Episode 2, “Next,” spends its full runtime reintroducing the cast, as one member after another joins Carmy in the Bear’s kitchen. There’s a new guest star who pops up in Episode 4, “Violet,” who’s absolutely perfect for the part, as much for his offscreen bonafides as his onscreen charms (kudos to casting director Jeanie Bacharach). There’s another new guest star in the following half-hour who I was less excited to see (and takes up much more screen time), but his too-muchness is balanced out by Platt’s effortless charisma, which makes the entire sequence sing.
Because of its relaxed, ruminative pace, tremendous character actors like Platt — who recently elevated another truncated role in Pamela Adlon’s feature debut, “Babes,” — get more to do (if only slightly). Scenes have room to breathe (if sometimes a little too much). Subtle episodic arcs and set-ups are enough to hold the season together, even if its overall inertia doesn’t really test those ties. There’s a time to let it rip and a time to let it be. “The Bear” Season 3 doesn’t quite strike the right balance (like the previous season did), but it serves up enough suitable side dishes to satiate diners until things really get cooking again.
Grade: B
“The Bear” Season 3 premieres Wednesday, June 26 at 9 p.m. ET on Hulu. All episodes will be released at once.
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