The Bear is a show that demands patience from its audience. I would call it a slow burn, but that would imply there’s a clear vision for the future and payoffs that make the pace worth it. It’s more accurate to say that the show is meandering, and Season 4 just cements that idea.
Following the third season’s ending, The Bear has received mixed, mostly negative, reviews in The Chicago Tribune, which worsen the slow financial bleed the restaurant is facing. Carmen is coming to the realization that the Bear’s woes all stem from his decisions, but it’s too little, too late, as his uncle’s financial adviser puts a timer in the kitchen that decides when it’s time to pull the plug on the whole thing.
The first two episodes are very promising -- the pressure is on, there are more scenes in the kitchen, and it looks like the show is going back to its roots with more forward momentum. It’s a nice change of pace from the previous season, where the floundering of the restaurant reflected the show’s own lack of meaningful progress.
That early promise slowly wears off as plot progression once again halts to a crawl in favor of more interpersonal drama and characters dealing with their issues. It’s not that the dramatic, emotional moments are bad, and the performances are still great. The problem is that it often feels like I’m just watching a rerun.
I don’t know many more scenes of a character quietly spacing out with a contemplative look on their face while a song play needs to happen, before the writers decide it’s time to for the show to ramp things up. The audience has seen it already; it’s time to move on to the next chapter; and not at the snail’s pace that these past two seasons have been going.
I’ve seen fans argue that The Bear isn’t really a show about cooking, but about the characters. I wonder if those same people ever saw The Sopranos or Breaking Bad, because even those shows had a lot more going on than the mob or drugs; they still had a forward momentum and kinetic energy that this show has been lacking.
The Bear’s whole identity is in the kitchen. It’s the primary element of the advertisement and when people who have never seen the show hear the name The Bear, their first thought is “Oh, that show about cooking?” There’s no getting around it. It’s ironic that the mantra that has been a constant on every season -- “Every second counts” -- seems to be ignored by the writers.
That’s not to say this season is lacking in great performances or comedy. Ebon Moss-Bachrach remains a highlight for his portrayal of Richie, who has seen the most enjoyable and expansive character arc on the show. Abby Elliot as Natalie Berzatto has also stepped up as one of the show’s best characters, especially as someone who excels in the comedic scenes. The Faks also continue to be the funniest part of the show and their scenes feel more refreshing as the show’s drama and stagnating plot go on.
There are some great moments in this season, and that will probably be enough for existing fans to think that the season is fine. The thing is, this show started off a lot better than fine. The first two seasons made for of the best TV of the past decade; they set a high bar that Seasons 3 and 4 fell short of by a mile. It is a victim of its own success, but it doesn’t excuse a season that leaves the show feeling aimless at lacking the magic it once had.
Major Spoilers for the End of Season 4:
I normally don’t spoil the endings or major twists of shows and films I review, but in order to explain why this season is so disappointing, a discussion of the ending is mandatory. Amidst subplots that don’t resolve by the end, there are hints that Carmy has realized he doesn’t want to be a chef anymore. The ninth episode ends with the shocking stinger of Sydney finding out Carmen has asked his brother-in-law, Pete, a lawyer, to change the partnership agreement to exclude him. Carmy is leaving the Bear. The season finale takes place in the alley behind the restaurant as Sydney, Richie, and Natalie react to the news.
Carmen reasons that he needs to find happiness outside of the kitchen and that it would be best if he left once he gets the restaurant on a profitable path. The thing is, he doesn’t know how to make a restaurant profitable, and he doesn't know what he’s going to do with his life away from the culinary world. It makes him look foolish.
As we learned more of Carmen’s backstory throughout the seasons, it becomes clear that his desire to be a great chef is intertwined with his trauma. He wants to succeed in fulfilling his dead brother’s wish, to prove his abusive teacher wrong, and to make his mother proud. His trying to fix his personal issues by severing his ties to cooking entirely is another impulsive move in line with the bad decisions that plague his restaurant. It invalidates all the progress the character has made in dealing with his demons.
The reason for this may be simple: Jeremy Allen White is moving on to bigger things, and he won’t be able to come back full-time for Season 5. Either way, the finale is hollow, and it doesn’t leave a promising foundation for the next season. After an underwhelming finale for Season 3, the last thing this show needed was another deflating end. There are some moments of catharsis that come from Carmen and Richie dealing with deep-rooted issues, but it doesn’t reverse the downward trend the show is on.
It takes a lot of guts to end the season like that and expect the audience to come back for what is likely the final season. Maybe it will all come together and pay off in a way I don’t expect, and I’ll end up eating my words. I would welcome that, but I doubt it.
Author Bio:
Ulises Duenas is a senior writer and film critic at Highbrow Magazine.
For Highbrow Magazine