FX’s The Bear is a show about Italian beef that tastes so hammy it may as well be a hot dog. Shot in the River North neighborhood of Chicago, we follow Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) on a bender. He’s not really drinking or doing drugs, but he’s going through it. He’s just pivoted from the world of fine dining and haute cuisine to his family’s slowly crumbling hole in the wall joint the “Original Beef of Chicagoland” where no one gives a rats ass about his former career or his James Beard Rising Star Award. His brother Mikey (Jon Berthnal) left him the family restaurant after dying by suicide. Carmy never found a note, but his brother did leave him with $300,000 in debt.
Over the course of eight episodes, which are now streaming on Hulu, we meet Carmy’s support system through these hard and trying times. His back of house (boh) staff consists of traditional Chicago characters like his smartass “cousin” Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), who was Mickey's barnacle of a best friend and the Original Beef’s “manager,” Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), l’entremetier, who pretends she can only speak Spanish when annoyed, Marcus (Lionel Boyce), the pastry chef who just needs a little love and attention for inspiration, and handyman Fak (played by real life chef Matty Mattheson), whose main goal is to be included in family meal despite not working in the kitchen. All of these characters commute to River North from various neighborhoods of Windy City and speak to Carmy like a family member who’s seen it all, but only some of these players, like Tina and Fak, belong in a kitchen. White, Moss-Bachrach and Abby Elliot, who plays Carmy’s disgruntled suburbanite sister “Sugar,” pull off emotional scenes, but they can’t cos-play as working class Italians from Chicago. They literally have no grit despite their costuming and accent work. They look like the quirky supporting characters you see in a random Netflix rom-com rather than long suffering lapsed Catholics.
At its best, Original Beef is a ragtag establishment until Sydney (Ayo Edeberi) arrives. Hired as Carmy’s sous chef, she sets up a Brigade de cuisine, even though she doesn’t believe in hierarchy. Unlike Carmy, who can only think of himself and his problems, Sydney is able to connect with people and whips the place into shape. She encourages Marcus and develops a rapport with Tina. The only person she can’t tame is Richie, who generally resists change like the plague. While Edeberi is a captivating performer who possesses a natural warmth, she, like almost everyone else in the cast, is given too much dialogue that pretty much only serves as exposition. Oh you weren’t sure what “housekeeping” was? Well, it means “clean up your station!” And why does Carmy refer to everyone as “chef?” Because it’s a “sign of respect!” Sure, not everyone has worked in a kitchen or a restaurant, but the writing staff could trim off some fat. As the series progresses, Sydney's primary job on The Bear is to explain everything in layman's terms to the audience, even scenes that require some emotional intelligence. Going this far is not only unnecessary and cringeworthy, but also shows a lack of faith in The Bear’s audience. We don’t need Sydney’s verbal confirmation that Carmy’s an asshole because he very clearly acts like one.
That being said, The Bear is a show about grief, and Carmy is the physical embodiment of that sentiment, but let’s be real, that’s no excuse to act like a tyrant. During episode 7 titled “Review,” we learn that Sydney accidentally left the to-go pre order option open for service after receiving a favorable review for a risotto dish she created. Hundreds of tickets are printed right before the lunch rush that leads Carmy to fully break down. This episode is treated with the same seriousness as the Battle of Huế in Full Metal Jacket. Carmy’s voice is constantly heard screaming at his staff because he needs “everything right fucking now” as the camera tracks around the kitchen. Heads are bowed as tensions run high because Carmy’s firing 76 beef sandwiches that he doesn’t have. This is clearly a life and death situation! It’s amazing what Grubhub can do to a person. Perhaps The Bear is actually an anti-capitalist critique?
Eater claims that The Bear “offers what may be scripted TV’s most authentic portrayal of life inside a failing restaurant,” but that’s ridiculous. Glossy and over-saturated with bold colors that highlight White’s stunning baby blues, The Bear is an emulsification of Vice’s food channel Munchies, with its PTSD induced chefs, and Lifetime, where mushy sentimentality runs supreme. Of course ego-maniac chef’s like Carmy are real and inspired by “creative geniuses” like David Chang and René Redzepi, who are known for throwing their temper and sharpies and cleavers at both the back of house employees and servers when service doesn’t go their way, but that doesn’t mean that the dudes who inspired Carmy should be understood as the norm. If anything, they’re just one ingredient in the foodie industrial complex. Maybe we should stop glorifying them.