When Season 4 of FX’s “The Bear” premiered last year, nobody really knew whether that season would be the show’s last. Creator Christopher Storer’s tale of the fractious Berzatto clan, and their extended work family of chefs, Faks, and brainy accountants with names like “Computer,” has, over the course of its run, grown into a bona fide phenomenon—one which, like the flagging Chicago eatery at its center, felt like it was growing a bit too big to sustain itself. The cast grew bigger (and more famous) with each installment; the playlist of needle drops became ever more expansive; the show and its writers grew more enamored of its characters to the point of mawkishness. All great ingredients in moderation, but put too much in the broth, and it affects the taste.
But just as Syd is asked to reduce, reduce, reduce with each overstretched protein, Season 5 feels like a stripped-down, back-to-basics iteration of the show, and that’s to its immense credit. It’s two episodes shorter than previous seasons; gone are the needle drops (in favor of a propulsive electronic score courtesy of composer Christian Lundberg and producer Hans Zimmer) and the subplots that stretch far beyond the restaurant, to say nothing of the lumbering pace those more aimless seasons engendered. The entire final season takes place over one stressful, nail-biting day, the most important moment in the restaurant’s life. (Think “Uncut Gems” with more likable characters and a bit of “Chef’s Table” food porn.) It’s game time, do-or-die, the moment of truth. It’s time for The Bear, and “The Bear,” to stick the landing. And, though this review comes without the benefit of seeing the season’s final episode, all signs point to success.
Season 4’s ticking clock, set by Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) and his number-crunching cohort Computer (“Ocean’s Thirteen” scribe Brian Koppelman), has run out; he’s eyeing an exit and is scrambling to cut bait and rid himself of the restaurant once and for all. But, in the spirit of “The Bear”‘s optimistic cast and sports-movie vigor, there’s always one more service, and this might just be the one that pulls them out of the fire. (Especially if Jimmy, along with computer and newly-recruited savant Cheese, played by Elsie Fisher, can find an alternate route to save the business. Two words: Air rights.)
The first two eps, of course, establish the apocalyptic stakes at hand, right down to a massive thunderstorm that coats Chicago in a thick, flood-worthy torrent, making the few wide shots of the Windy City look like the Los Angeles in “Blade Runner.” The restaurant, like its staff, is coming apart at the seams: Pipes burst, basements flood, inventory gets destroyed. We’re literally getting Faks falling through the ceiling.
The metaphorical storm lies in the friction among the staff, too: Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) struggles to find the right time to tell the crew he’s quitting and to leave Syd (Ayo Edebiri) in charge; he lingers like a phantom in his own kitchen, eager to step away but unwilling to let go. Syd, for her part, feels panicked at the prospect of stepping into the leadership role. Sugar (Abby Elliott) juggles keeping the restaurant afloat for one more minute with trusting her chaotic mom, Donna (Jamie Lee Curtis), with her newborn baby, and professional pressures are beginning to form fractures between award-winning pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce) and his departing stage, Luca (Will Poulter). Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) agonizes over pitching Carmy his prospectus to franchise the beef window (“Do not be intimidated by his bright blue eyes”). The brothers Fak (Matty Matheson, Ricky Staffieri), well…. they’re the Faks.
Storer knows we know and love these characters at this point, and so “The Bear” keeps its nose down and gets down to the business at hand, and it’s so refreshing for that. The show’s hypnotic rhythms, honed over years of montage-like filmmaking and fluid editing, keep us bouncing from scene to scene with remarkable ease; the dialogue floats between spicy (Jimmy’s creative cursing includes “fuck my life to death”) and cheesy (every one of Cousin Richie’s heartwarmingly Chicagoan pep talks, delivered with Ebon Moss-Bachrach‘s signature po-faced sincerity). Every performer is quietly at the top of their game, easing through the quirks and foibles of their characters so quietly that it never feels like effort. (Of particular praise is Edebiri, who sells the pressure of getting the responsibility she had waited for the whole show to receive.) It’s so propulsive and economical, you’ll be shocked when the credits start rolling on one episode and the next begins.
Apart from Jimmy and crew’s foul-mouthed excursions to the County Clerk’s office and a crazy family member who owns the air rights (played with delicious scorn by “The Penguin“‘s Dierdre O’Connell), “The Bear” smartly keeps its characters contained inside the four walls of the restaurant. It’s practically that one-take season one episode “Review” writ large, with all the tension that entails. But what longtime “Bear” fans will notice is that the characters have genuinely grown since then: They face obstacles, but they know to rely on each other and their faith in their own skills. As their final service starts, and hope begins to spring (especially in the fifty-minute penultimate episode), the crew begins a delicate balancing act of improvisation and teamwork that makes you want to pump your fist in the air.
It’s competence porn of the highest degree—not just because they’ve gotten better at making and serving haute cuisine, or know how to stretch a finite number of ingredients into Michelin-quality paintings on a plate, but because they know how to build and motivate a team. Same as Richie and crew can massage a turn into a delicate dance of impatient patrons and dropped dishes, Storer and his expert team usher us through the highs and lows of The Bear’s make-or-break shift in ways that feel earned, rather than just the sentimentality of an unrealistic underdog story.
In many ways, “The Bear” is, and always has been, an aspirational fantasy. As Cheese notes frequently, restaurants are a horrible business; they close, they shutter for any reason, they wring the emotional, financial, and physical well-being of the people who run and work for them. Lord knows, the show, with its many creative ups and downs (not to mention the awkward scheduling of an increasingly famous cast), has had its low moments. But what Storer’s story presupposes is that there is worth in the doing, and family to be had in the tight-knit community of chefs that work for a place. That, in the final estimation, will be “The Bear”‘s ultimate lesson, and one that will cement it as one of the most dynamic and satisfying shows of the 21st century.
First seven episodes screened for review. All episodes now available on Hulu and Disney+.
