Why I love The Bear
On tomato sauce, normal faces, corn and cheese
I just handed in the manuscript for my second novel which means that my brain is at once as airy as a Whispa bar and leaden as Wellington’s wintry sky (almost felt like I had to duck from it today). In this state I have found it hard to read as much as I should be. And into the void marches TV — Oh, how I have binged! I started with two British crime shows I didn’t think I could miss with and was half right: loved Code of Silence but thought Dept Q was overblown and had too many subplots hanging off it.
Next I chose Sirens on Netflix and despaired. It is an objectively terrible show and I found myself wondering (as I watched every single episode right to the miserable end) just how actors as excellent as Julianne Moore and Meghann Fahy and Kevin Bacon agreed to do it. Sirens primary crime is that it’s confused about what it is — Is it a murder mystery? Stylish drama about a cult leader? Sister thriller? In the end it’s none of the above, just a very middling yet expensive show about sinister wielders of wealth, again.
So by the time The Bear season 4 was released (stealthily it seemed to me — without any lead-in social media fanfare at all) I was both nervous and desperate. I needed a show that would cradle me in its steady hands.
I was anxious, too, because I put a stake in the ground over Season 3 which was fairly widely dismissed as an average-to-bad job. Over on The Spinoff I argued with my editor about it, claiming that the mess and stress of Season 3 was necessary and truthful (which I stand by). But what if Season 4 was repetitious? What if it tried to up the stakes yet again and Carmy’s perfectionism and inability to communicate would fuck it up, again?
Relief washed over me like a gust of tropical wind as the opening sequence of episode one unfolded. A bubbling pot of tomato sauce; Mikey and Carmy in their Mum’s kitchen talking about garlic and how restaurants take care of people and maybe they could do that together. I think I actually audibly sighed with pleasure. Simply to be back there — among the characters who, by now, are like family.
Family is the central idea of Season 4 which is everything we needed it to be and more (particularly if you’ve gone through the ups and downs of the first three seasons – in fact you really must if you’re to get the sinking into a hot bath sensation of the latest 10eps). The pressure is on and the timers are ticking: that review (see Season 3’s cliffhanger) was lukewarm and has further damaged Uncle’s faith in his investment. Change must occur: ingredients must be shed; the menu has to stabilise; Syd has to be listened to; Sugar needs the pie chart on her spreadsheet to tip from “Shit” to “Good”.
Where shows like Sirens fabricate a sort of global truth – another bland comment on the enduring falsity of wealth and wellness – The Bear takes a myriad small truths from the grit and mess of people’s little lives. Season 4 sticks to what The Bear does best – it veers from episodes that linger long on one character to episodes that race through the ensemble at a frenetic pace – but it flavours everything with healing and growth and forgiveness.
I had never really considered restaurants with the care with which I consider them now: the relentless hours, the adrenaline, the perfectionism, the family. I also now want to jump on a plane and spend time exploring Chicago and trying to find a sandwich as delicious-looking as the original Chicago Beef. The Bear has taught me so much and has given me cravings I never thought I was capable of.
In this world we need TV about the potential for individual growth for the sake of the health and survival of the family. The Bear is a glimpse into restaurant life and the spillage between life-life and work-life and it’s beautiful and covered in sauce and foam. But what it really shows is that people are capable of cleaning up their messes; of extending generosity to that what makes us insecure; of surprising ourselves and others. This is no small feat. It’s the small acts of forgiveness and bravery that are transformative in life and The Bear’s storylines reveal this and it is as soul-satisfying as one of Marcus’ increasingly famous fancy puddings.
The actors also look normal and un-botoxed. After the smooth foreheads and plumped lips of Sirens it was heavenly to see Claire’s moles and Carmy’s pores and DD’s (Jamie Lee Curtis – stand out cameo) gorgeous concertina’d cheeks. Give me more real skin and close ups of aged eyes for god’s sake! I was so moved and heartened to see my own weathering skin up there on the screen and for it to be moorish and kindly and wholesome.
Then there’s Ayo Edebiri. Her character Syd is the quiet heart of The Bear – it’s her delicacy with the Berzatto family’s great loss that lends the show much of its tenderness as well as tension (the question of whether Syd can bear to stay alongside Carmy’s lunacy is one of the ticking time bombs). Syd begins as the outsider who enters into a family that is shell-shocked and in tatters. It’s the contrast between Syd’s temperament and that of the Berzatto family’s that really illuminates how the show is really about grief and how it has to be lived through. Mikey was a flawed, heart-of-gold patriarch who grew a family business out of principles of opportunity and kindness. He gave a job to Tina who was desperate; and to Ebraheim who didn’t have any qualifications (his story in Season 4 is magnificent) and to the Fac brothers who offer only warmth and semi-competent handy-man skills; and to Cousin who is one of TV’s great creations — an anti-hero you can’t not adore.
Syd also has impeccable fashion and I want all of it.
This is the TV that deserves to be made: it’s great writing. It’s unafraid to get corny when it needs to (this show has so much gold at the heart it begged for corn) and unafraid to lob beauty and fate into the mix. There is a beguiling and lovely episode where Carmy – who is finally beginning to understand the edges of his grief and the traumas of his own perfectionism and what it has done to him – visits the houses of Frank Lloyd Wright and revels in the precision and the invention and the craft. It’s like the great architect’s work mirrors his own sense of satisfaction in a job well imagined and executed. But it’s also the first time we see Carmy really indulge in another facet of the world, outside of the kitchen – and it’s joyful and freeing for us all.
Books I have read lately: I have actually done more than binge TV. Here are some book highlights.
Alice with a Why by Anna James: Charming! It’s 1919 and Alice of Wonderland is a grandmother and it’s the war and it is tragic. Anna James takes Alice’s granddaughter, Alyce, to Wonderland where she encounters old and maddening habits and friends, as well as some fresh despots. It’s brilliantly done: the tone of Lewis Carroll’s enchanting/frustrating and at-times terrifying world is there and the voice is wonderfully 1919. It’s clever, too, the way James has mirrored the stress and tragedies of the WWI Alyce is living through with Wonderland’s new troubles.
Gertrude Stein by Francesca Wade: Wade is such a brilliant biographer. I’m in awe of her work unearthing the details of Stein’s life and legacy. I find it endlessly interesting to read about Left Bank Paris before, during and after the wars. Such artistic leaps and bounds and arrogance and argy-bargy! I am not quite finished the book yet but will write a lengthier review when done.
Book scandal: Absolutely intrigued and horrified by the Observer investigation into Raynor Winn (The Salt Path) published on the weekend. So many questions! The line between truth and fiction in memoir being one of them… but also what a distance to fall when the truth is always there waiting to be discovered and tied like a weight to those who try fly above it. Very curious to see how Penguin (the publisher) responds and whether the stars of the recently released film will make any statements.
‘Substack is where writers go to be weird’: loved reading this article on Vulture about writers going wild and editor-free on Substack. It made me laugh as the above ramble on The Bear would most certainly be edited and boldly had I an overlord that wasn’t as lazy as the one currently typing.
Anyway — here’s to all of those who have finished manuscripts recently! Let’s eat!
“the show is really about grief and how it has to be lived through” yes yes yes The Bear is not a cooking show sorry folks
Haven’t watched S.4 yet, but will. I’ve loved all three seasons so far, but if anything, S.3 was the best in a way. Thought individual episodes from other seasons might have ‘done more’, S.3 probed quietly, deeply, and surveyed broadly. I found it mesmeric.
Congrats on the new book handing in