REVIEW: The Bear – Season Two [2023]

Rating: TV-MA | Episodes: 10 | Runtime: 40 minutes
Release Date: June 22nd, 2023 (USA)
Studio: FX Network / Hulu
Creator(s): Christopher Storer

Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.

How do you follow up a perfect season of television? This was the question running through my mind pretty much from the moment I finished the first season of “The Bear” knowing that a second had already been greenlit. It’s one thing to do so with a sitcom that doesn’t rely upon strict serialization since the characters and situational comedy are the draw. It doesn’t matter what they do, only the success of their actions.

Christopher Storer’s show is different not only in its ability to often let its authentic drama overshadow the humor, but also in how concise and precise those initial episodes were in terms of scope and theme. He could have walked away and labeled it a miniseries. That’s how great and self-contained his narrative arc on grief, regret, and anxiety was. To therefore find a way forward by crafting another arc equally as effective and relatable seemed impossible to fathom. But he did it. He may have even bested it.

And why not? Grief doesn’t just disappear when you have an emotional breakthrough in your ability to process it. Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) isn’t going to just move on from his brother (Jon Bernthal’s Michael) committing suicide and leaving him the family restaurant he refused to let him work at. Neither is Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), who in some regards has it worse since his sole utility in life was being Michael’s wingman.

To therefore assume that the finale’s discovery of three hundred large in the pasta sauce will magically make everything better is beyond naive. It’s idiotic. Because A) three hundred thousand dollars isn’t going to be enough to remodel, repackage, and reopen a long-time Chicago staple sandwich shop into a fine dining destination and B) the distraction of fulfilling that dream (because opening a spot to call her own is Ayo Edebiri’s Sydney’s dream too) will only exacerbate the reality that no one on-screen has fully escaped their demons.

Carmy still battles his toxic temper and complete and utter lack of self-worth. Richie still wrestles with the reality that he’s never sought to discover purpose outside of who he is to another person (his ex-wife, his daughter, Michael, and now The Beef seem to be evaporating). And Sydney continues to reckon with the failure of her catering business and the reductive view that doing it herself put the blame squarely on her shoulders when the real issue was being alone and not her talent or competency to do the job.

The hope then is that pooling their resources together can put them over the hump. That Carmy can walk out from beneath the shadow of an abusive chef to steward Syd. That she can grow and learn with a partner to get better and make him better too. That Richie might push the fear of obsolescence aside and realize he has the tools to be great if only he got out of his own way.

That’s the central theme of season two: personal growth. Carmy taking over The Beef showed those who worked there that they had the capability to be their best selves when given the room to excel. Now all of them moving towards The Bear is their collective chance to leverage that newfound confidence into execution and sustained success. How? By taking them out of their comfort zones and letting them sink or swim with new challenges.

Storer and Joanna Calo have a wonderful knack of tapping into the past (both good and bad) to do so—using Carmy’s traumatic family life to sabotage his own path while also capitalizing on his extensive career to provide openings for his new friends to prosper upon theirs. That’s Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) getting a crash course at culinary school. Marcus (Lionel Boyce) heading to Denmark to hone his dessert skills. And Richie, yes Richie, finding himself amongst the well-dressed “lizards” of Chicago’s most renowned dining experience.

And while those three get their own episode (or parts of a couple in Tina’s case), Carmy and Syd have their own challenges to face via life and love. She is dealing with the pressure of being in charge and a supportive yet worried father (Robert Townsend) wondering if the risk is too high. Carm is faced with the prospect of happiness via teenage crush Claire (Molly Gordon) at the exact worst time when you consider the focus needed to pull off what they’ve set out to do (gutting, hiring, and opening at lightning speed so Oliver Platt’s Uncle Jimmy doesn’t take ownership and knock it all down).

Syd is neglecting that which matters to put everything into the restaurant. Carmy is sacrificing everything that has mattered to him for the past decade-plus to pursue that which should matter instead. Will they find a balance? Will they provide each other support? Or was the explosive nature of “Review” only the tip of the iceberg?

Season two possesses its own “Review” in the form of “Fishes” and yet it arrives in the exact opposite form. Where last year’s frenetic penultimate shitshow was a breakneck twenty-minute temper tantrum of attrition, this year’s powder keg of anxiety is a sixty-minute, star-studded flashback to Christmas at the Berzatto house. It’s the sort of unforgettably honest look at mental illness that television and movies often gloss over. One that should earn Bernthal a guest star Emmy nod for really capturing the pain that led Michael to suicide.

I won’t lie and say the stunt casting wasn’t a distraction, but Sarah Paulson, John Mulaney, Bob Odenkirk, and Jamie Lee Curtis all pull through to show their inclusion wasn’t a lark. So much of what we know about Carmy and his sister Natalie (Abby Elliott) comes into stark shape here. Enough to make a line in the finale where Richie calls Carm by his mother’s name so damning yet tragically appropriate. The Berzattos are not well.

There are more cameos to come (see Will Poulter, Sarah Ramos, and Olivia Colman, and Gillian Jacobs) and all knock their them out of the park with a wonderful mix of context for the past and content for the future. But the real bright star of the whole is Gordon. Not only does she give an amazing performance in her own right as a necessary foil for Carm’s inability to escape his own head, but the blossoming romance and support system she supplies is second to none. Their warmth and magic and awkward smiles bring a vulnerability and hopefulness that really cuts through the tension (alongside Richie’s transformation and evolving dynamic with Syd and Natalie).

Add an expanded role for Neil Fak’s (Matty Matheson) bottomless positivity and there’s almost too much love to be true. Thankfully Storer realizes this fact and reminds his characters that their biggest fear is joy inviting the other shoe. Not so much that he renders the progress made moot. Just enough to ensure we recognize the hurt that remains in their hearts.