Has The Bear Jumped The Shark?

I just finished Season Three and I need to talk about it.

Photo by Elle Cosgrave on Unsplash

[*****WARNING: THERE BE PLENTY OF SPOILERS AHEAD*****]

There is a lot going on in the world right now, and the hard-working staff here at Drezner’s World is paying attention and collating the data and crafting outlooks that are not, strictly speaking, a longer version of “we’re so fucked.” But as any Stephen King fan knows, all work and no play makes Dan a dull boy. So on this hot summer day I’d like to talk about Season Three of The Bear — one of my favorite shows — which I finally got around to binging:

My overall takeaway echoes TheRinger’s Katie Baker:

As a creative project, The Bear’s three-season existence has had an arc worthy of its flashy food industry subject matter. The show popped up in 2022 with a fresh, crisp point of view and a cool collection of talent who were on the cusp of breakout success. It was immediately the streaming equivalent of a hip reservation, and having watched it was an indicator that you Get It. Some people can nab trendy two tops at seven; others get to point at their TV screens and remark, Yeah, I used to drink juice out of plastic pint containers, too, back when I waitressed. Corner!

The show’s first two seasons were a joy to consume; watching them felt like getting a wink from the bartender and a li’l amuse-bouche on the house. There was a little something new in each episode for even the most ardent and discerning of repeat customers—an experimentation with form, perhaps, or a tiny cameo bursting with depth and flavor—but there was also the comfort of knowing you could throw the show on and expect some good back-of-house slang and lingering shots of juicy meats every time. The show received raves from critics and multiple Emmy Awards, which are kind of like television’s Michelin stars.

This season, though, sitting down to view The Bear has felt a little bit like visiting an off night at Bros’. Everyone wants to enjoy the best-in-class meal they looked forward to, but it’s hard to ignore the signs that the magic just isn’t in the room: the sloppy execution, the reliance on too much Tuesday surprise–style razzle-dazzle, that skosh of self-satisfaction that overpowers the dish. So much fussing over plating, so many proud refusals to simply play the hits. Charm can be hard to scale, and lately so much of what enhanced The Bear in small doses early on—the celebrity cameos, the moody Carmyheimer montages, the snappy overlapped yapping between minor characters who have long histories and short fuses—is laid on so thick that it’s a bit annoying to swallow.

That does not mean this season was bad, exactly. The “Ice Chips” episode was outstanding, and had the added virtue of providing a showcase for Natalie’s Abby Elliott, the most underrated performer in The Bear’s cast.¹ This season, however, The Bear seemed to fall into a number of narrative traps that will hopefully not recur in subsequent seasons. These include:

1. As with dishes that get overburdened by too many ingredients, Season Three has WAY too many cameos. The showrunners learned the wrong lesson from “Fishes,” believing that cameos are always great without realizing the miracle that they pulled off in Season Two. So, for example, Josh Hartnett was perfectly fine as Frank, but his one scene took the viewer out of the episode because it’s Josh Hartnett.²

2. Another lesson the showrunners over-learned from “Fishes” is having so many flashbacks. The first episode of season three, “Tomorrow,” was basically an extended montage of the same three or four things put on an endless loop. It felt padded and unnecessary. Similarly, the “Napkins” episode — showing how Tina (played by Liza Colón-Zayas) winds up working at The Beef — does not actually move either the character or the plot forward.

3. It’s a bad sign for a show when I can feel the writer pulling the strings to set up plot and character developments — and this season had way too much of that. Pete (played by Chris Witaske) taking a trip so close to Nat’s due date?! Carm (played by Jeremy Allan White) bigfooting the menu just as Sydney (played by Ayo Edeberi) is contemplating a new offer?! Come on guys.

4. A deeper issue with the finale was the show’s premise that Carm’s management style was unconsciously patterned after his sadistic New York chef mentor David Fields (played by Joel McHale). There is a pretty good scene where Carm, after staring at Fields for an entire dinner, finally confronts him on his abusive behavior:

   This scene works, but it also felt like the show was suggesting that Field’s toxic asshole philosophy was the only way one could be great. And that is patently untrue, as Carm’s mentor Chef Terry (played by Olivia Colman) makes clear. It felt like a stale argument — reheated leftovers.

5. This show really likes to take its sweet time with plot developments. We learn about the imminent Chicago Tribune review in episode four, and it doesn’t come out until the very last moments of the season. Syd is emailed the contract in the season’s first episode and doesn’t sign it despite numerous conversations about it. Carm is urged to apologize to Claire (played by Molly Gordon), knows he should do it, and yet fails to in the end. Ritchie (played by Ebon Moss-Bachrach) should totally ask Jessica (played by Sarah Ramos) to be his date to his ex’s wedding, and he never pulls the trigger. A show can only have so much inaction in its main characters before it risks running into Game of Thrones comparisons of plot delays.

If these criticisms sound like I think the show is curdled, for the record I don’t think that’s true. This season also had a lot of strong moments. The music, as always, is great; re-using Refused’s “New Noise” at the start of “Ice Chips” was genius. The recurring shots of everyone breaking down boxes and being grumpy about it was both funny and symbolic. The Fak-squabbling was entertaining, as was the season-long butting of heads between Ritchie and Carm:

Marcus (played by Lionel Boyce) provided a great counterpoint to Carm as a means of dealing with grief, as well as the pay-it-forward virtues of having supportive parents. The one scene between Syd and Uncle Jimmy (played by Tufts alum Oliver Platt) was good and gentle and sweet.

My ultimate hot take about this show is that its real hero is Pete, the oasis of stability in a sea of unhinged, damaged personalities. Pete is the normie character who loves his wife and his hobbies and provides for his family and tolerates a tremendous amount of family dysfunction and just soldiers on even though the entire Berzatto family likes to mock him.

In conclusion, The Bear finds itself at a crossroads. I hope in Season Four they improve upon the recipe and deliver some better plots. I fear that they will wind up being like the last few seasons of Mad Men, in which the characters reverted to their original selves.

1. If you doubt this, go back and watch Season Two’s legendary “Fishes” episode. In a cavalcade of star power and operatic performances, it’s Elliott’s Sugar who serves as the audience’s proxy. Watching her wounded face grow ever more pained as she witnesses the emotional carnage piling up around her is devastating. With barely any dialogue, Elliott’s performance grounds that entire episode.

2. Casting John Cena as a Fak, on the other hand, was perfection.