The third season of The Bear hinges on the outcome of a restaurant review. Like so much of the “action” in this latest data-dump of 10 episodes, it’s a seemingly small matter presented with life-or-death urgency. Other narratives this season include: Will my girlfriend take me back? Can I feel happy for my ex as she marries someone else? What if I take this new job? Should I call my Mom?
What’s interesting about the restaurant review subplot is how it unintentionally echoes the current response to The Bear itself. After the first two seasons were showered with accolades (along with all those Emmys), the “I always thought it sucked” contingent of the critical community has pounced on Season Three, essentially sending it back to the kitchen with complaints that it is severely undercooked.
Nothing happens, it’s self-indulgent, it’s all tics and flourishes and no substance — the criticisms of The Bear have come to resemble the Chicago Tribune’s climactic takedown of Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto’s embattled eatery. More than that, Season Three of The Bear has been turned into a referendum on the sins of Prestige TV. And look, I get it. I kind of hate prestige TV now, too! We are in a moment in which hacky TV writers have learned how to construct a facsimile of a critically adored, Emmy-feted and social media-wooing television program, while at the same time putting nothing of actual value inside the televisual meat suit. It’s annoying, and makes me want to go outside.
Also, as a loyal viewer of The Bear, I can enumerate the show’s flaws. Does it sometimes spin its wheels narratively? Yes, chef. Are the many famous guest stars turning up in small roles distracting? Yes, chef. (John Cena is not a Fak brother, John Cena is John Cena.) Does the cycle of emotional breakdowns and heartfelt reconciliations, at times, feel repetitive? Yes, chef.
And yet, for all these flaws, I was pretty much riveted for the roughly five hours I spent watching Season Three. This show’s magic trick is that it can put two people in a room, have them talk for 10 minutes, and make it as exciting and intense as any battle scene from House Of The Dragon. Is The Bear self-indulgent? Sure. But to simply dismiss it as “bad” strikes me as an overreaction to the acclaim this show has garnered rather than a fair accounting of The Bear’s strengths and weaknesses. The fact is that the main creative minds behind this show — creator Christopher Storer and executive producer Josh Senior — are attempting the TV equivalent of changing the menu every single day. They are trying some shit, in other words, and while they don’t always hit the mark, I don’t think they can be credibly accused of doing boring work (unlike many of their peers in the Prestige TV business). Even the episodes that don’t fully cohere have at least one scene that’s as good as anything you’ll see on television.
One of the most fascinating aspects of The Bear for me is the soundtrack, which is carefully selected by Storer and Senior. In the past they haveshared with me how they picked the music, and while some viewers might find their choices to be corny or overbearing, you can’t say they don’t put a ton of thought into it.
On The Bear, the soundtrack isn’t the typical sonic window-dressing it is on most shows. The music functions partly as a Greek chorus and partly as a window into the psychology of the characters. It also — and this is even truer after Season Three — acts as a kind of narrative thread for the entire series. The songs are like memories that bring you back to certain moments from previous episodes, while also foreshadowing what lies ahead.
I’ll explain what I mean while reviewing the 10 best needle drops from Season Three of The Bear.
