TF Happened to The Bear? (Part One)

Spoilers for the first four seasons of The Bear below.

Part I: Family History

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In 2022, The Bear came out of nowhere. A scrappy, moderately budgeted show from a mid-sized network, the Chicago-set dramedy about a gourmet chef returning to his family’s sandwich shop quickly became a cultural phenomenon.

The show was fresh and exciting. It popped with a kinetic shooting style and fast paced editing. The eclectic ensemble cast made magic together, and Ebon Moss-Bachrach was giving the best performance on American TV.

Most surprising though was the show’s emotional resonance. Beneath The Bear’s surface thrills was a moving story of two men who hadn’t processed the death of a loved one. It was also about Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) a young chef forced to deal with their outbursts and stake her claim in a toxic, male dominated workplace. The show would wrap you up in the minute, fast paced dramatics of running a kitchen, only to catch you off guard with an emotional hammer blow.

Season one’s most resonant idea was also its most visually dynamic: the staff of the Original Chicago Beef restaurant were working inside the mind of Michael Berzatto.

Michael was the late brother of protagonist Carmen (Jeremy Allen White) and the best friend of Carmen’s “Cousin” Richie (Moss-Bachrach). His death casts a shadow over the entire series, and the restaurant he used to own becomes a monument to his memory.

Richie memorably finds Michael’s suicide note on the restaurant's floor, only to tuck it away, not ready to open it. When Carmen opens the letter in the finale, he’s gifted with both the posthumous approval of his brother and a financial solution to The Beef’s problems. By confronting Michael’s death and saying a proper goodbye, Carmen and Richie save both the restaurant and themselves.

Somehow, season two was even better.

Some fans were put off by Carmen’s choice to turn The Beef (now renamed The Bear) into a high-end restaurant, but the move was narratively inevitable. Carmen was obsessed with culinary greatness, of proving himself to an entire industry. The move also commented on the success of the show itself. The TV series The Bear was no longer a scrappy underdog, so neither was the restaurant. They were both high-budget, closely watched success stories, and the stakes felt even higher.

This season never let Michael’s memory fade, only deepening our understanding of his impact. However it also refused to repeat itself. Instead, season two drilled down into both the process of cooking and the character’s psychologies, demonstrating how mastery of the former could lead to a better understanding of the latter.

This season saw Tina, Marcus and Richie self-actualize through the act of food service in a parade of classic episodes. So even if the finale’s climactic moments - and its undercooked love story between Carmen and childhood friend Claire (Molly Gordon) - didn’t fully come together, all was forgiven. The season had delivered the show’s finest dishes, and everyone was hungry for more.

It's puzzling then, that the show’s third and fourth seasons were greeted with a collective shrug. The series has continued to win awards, but at least in my circles, enthusiasm for it has definitely waned. Having just finished season four, I wanted to investigate the reasons these last two seasons have not resonated to the same degree as the first two.

Let's jump in.

Part II: Sense of Urgency

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Season one of The Bear has only eight episodes, most of which are under thirty minutes. In those eight episodes, it felt like mountains moved.

Carmen and Richie confront Mikey’s death and repair their relationship. Mikey’s money saves the restaurant from financial ruin and threats of violence from Cicero. Sydney proves that she belongs and makes her mark on the menu. After initially hating her, Tina comes to respect Sydney and view her as a collaborator and mentor. Marcus’ crush on Syd blows up at the worst possible time.

I’m writing all of this from memory. I only watched this season once, three years ago.

In contrast, here are the major storylines I remember from seasons three and four:

Carmy tries and fails to reconcile with Claire a few times, and eventually he kind of does. Richie worries about his daughter’s new stepdad, but it’s cool, turns out he’s a chill guy. Syd spends twenty episodes deciding whether or not to sign a contract.

Okay, obviously more stuff happens, but...not nearly enough? These last two seasons are bizarrely low on incident, and nothing feels at risk. In season four, a literal ticking clock is established, but the stakes are frustratingly low. Season one Cicero was ready to break some legs, but ever since Richie served him that chocolate banana in season two, he’s been firmly in cuddly uncle territory. Cicero tells us that when the clock runs out, so does the restaurant’s “parachute.” But don’t worry, we’re assured that they can continue operating without it. Okay?

My jaw dropped when I realized that season four’s finale would not end in a service. This is at the culmination of a season that is bafflingly low on cooking, or even storylines about the operation of the restaurant. The frenetic kitchen scenes that made the show famous have almost completely disappeared. How did the most exciting show on TV get so damn sleepy?

I have my theory, but we will get to that later. First:

Part III: System Chef

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To be perfectly honest, my knowledge of technical filmmaking is limited. I’m mostly focused on a show’s writing, and for me to notice the filmmaking, a series has to be doing something distinct. From the beginning, The Bear was distinct.

The series’ rapid-fire cutting and a roving camera reflected the frantic headspace of Carmen Berzatto. The pilot announces itself with a montage: Carmen needs to figure out how to pay for a shipment of beef, and an onslaught of video-game sound effects give him an idea: empty out the arcade machines for coins.

The season’s penultimate episode was an audacious one-take, showcasing the kitchen staff’s battle through a busy service. It was the rare one-shot experiment that actually served the story. You felt the actors sweating to hit their marks just as the characters scrambled to hit theirs.

In the most recent season, a lot of that ambition is gone. As I said, you have to be making a very noticeable filmmaking choice for me to catch it, and I did notice one trend in season four. This thing is like 90% shallow-focus close-up.

I used to read a guy called Film Crit Hulk, who eventually became an online punching bag for both justified and unjustified reasons. One of the many things he imparted on me was the power of the close-up. He pointed to the 2012 Les Mis adaptation as a movie that overused close-ups, diminishing their emotional impact.

I thought of this during season four, after the eleventh emotional conversation that was photographed inches from the actor’s face. I care about these characters, and these actors are giving great performances, but if you emphasize all of them with close-ups, I’ll eventually tune out. To paraphrase The Incredibles; if every moment is special, then none of them are.

Or perhaps this is a writing problem. Maybe there were simply too many of these conversations, and their content was repetitive. Which brings me to:

Part IV: Heard

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The Bear has long been praised for its depictions of mental illness and approach to mental health. Justifiably so! The series empathetically depicts characters struggling with PTSD, addiction, family issues, and grief. These people behave self-destructively, are aggressive with their co-workers, and can be outright cruel to their loved ones. We loved them because they were imperfect and human. At least at first.

I’m trying to resist projecting anything onto the writing-staff of The Bear, but I hope you’ll allow me to make a leap: you can tell they took the responsibility of being a “mental-health show” seriously. That’s admirable, but it’s become a problem for the show’s drama.

After season two brought the main characters to emotional catharsis, the writers refused to let them regress. I understand that. You don’t want the series to get repetitive. But the show has also been frustratingly unimaginative in giving the characters new problems, obstacles, and hang-ups.

Combined with (and directly related to) the later seasons’ lack of incident, you end up with a show almost entirely made up of emotional conversations. That’s especially deadly when the conversations are so flat on a dramatic level. Characters say exactly what they feel and what they mean, and their friends agree with and support them. There’s zero conflict or subtext.

The show had moments like these before, but they hit hard because they were the exception, not the rule. In season one, Syd gets so mad at Richie that she literally stabs him, and their uneasy reconciliation has weight.

In season four, Richie’s long gestating hatred of his daughter’s new step-dad climaxes in them having a quick heart-to-heart. That’s nice, (and it reflects Richie’s character growth), but it’s not very interesting.

Some of these moments work in isolation (I teared up at Syd’s speech about being a burden to her father), but they no longer feel part of the characters' over-arching journeys. The journeys are over. Everyone is doing well.

Critically, there’s also waaay too many of these conversations. A late episode in season four, Green, is almost entirely made up of them:

Sugar and Pete have discuss the responsibility of parenting. Luca comforts Marcus about his relationship with his father. Then he compliments Tina on her cooking progress. Richie opens up to Jessica, and then gives Neil a pep-talk.

Yes, the show also hypes up Carmy’s confrontation with his troubled mom Donna, but guess what happens in the next episode? She reads him a well-worded apology and the two reconcile.

I understand that the writers care about these characters. I get that they no longer want to put them through hell. Unfortunately, watching flawed people deal with difficult situations was the reason I came to The Bear in the first place.

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Thanks so much for reading. Check in soon for part two :)

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Bob Woolsey
Bob Woolsey
 · 07/16/2025
You really do get the sense they've fallen in love with their own characters a bit too much. I still kinda love the show though.
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mind.full.of.movies
mind.full.of.movies
 · 07/16/2025
I see what you mean, for sure. I think I really loved the show at the beginning because it was really paralleling the experience of mental health and grief. I do agree with you, the show did get really repetitive, and I think where they could have really delved into the family dynamics, they just gave us way too much tension and a lot of telling (especially with the relationship with the mom), and then Carmy's grief became sidelined. Nonetheless, it's still a fun show to watch. The food montages are to die for.
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