The Bear
Created by Christopher Storer
Starring
Jeremy Allen White
Ebon Moss-Bachrach
Ayo Edebiri
Lionel Boyce
Liza Colón-Zayas
Abby Elliott
Matty Matheson
Executive producers Joanna Calo, Josh Senior, Christopher Storer, Hiro Murai, Nate Matteson, Matty Matheson
Producer Tyson Bidner
Cinematography Andrew Wehde
Running time 20–66 minutes
Every so often, a television series produces an episode that is an almost perfect blend of genius acting, inspired writing, and faultless direction. West Wing had “Two Cathedrals.” M*A*S*H had “The Death of Henry Blake.” More recently, The Last of Us had Nick Offerman’s incandescent “Long Long Time.” Extraordinary Attorney Woo and The Sopranos had several such episodes apiece. Sometimes it’s comedy. WKRP in Cincinnati had the one about thanksgiving turkeys, and Mary Tyler Moore had “The Death of Chuckles the Clown.”
The point is sometimes you see an episode that is so good, so moving, so engaging, that you never forget it. Usually the show is well above average to begin with.
In its first season, Christopher Storer’s The Bear quickly established itself as one of the best series on television. An unpretentious tale about a slightly seedy deli/restaurant near the Loop in Chicago, it featured an ensemble cast, and writing that revealed deep knowledge and love of the restaurant trade. Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto is a chef de cuisinewho comes in to take over the place from his brother, who suicided out. The place has been mismanaged and teeters on the brink of failure. The manager, Richie, is what the Brits would call a ‘yob’; not a bad guy, necessarily, but feckless and prone to temper tantrums. Carmy is in similar shape, shell-shocked from an abusive mentor and the severe stresses of the high-end culinary life in New York City.
At the end of season one, Carmy, through some shrewd negotiation and some dumb luck, is able to see his way clear to tearing out the decrepit deli and replacing it with a Michelin-class restaurant.
Season two shows what goes into the creation of such an establishment. At least, that’s what 8 of the 9 episodes are about, and just by themselves, make The Bear the best show on television right now, bar none. The deep understanding of the subject matter, the amazingly idiosyncratic and versatile characters, and the flawless pacing make this a series Michelin would give at least three stars.
But it’s a stand-alone episode (“Fishes”), a bit over an hour in length, a five-year flashback to the Berzatto family, that rises to the level of utter incandescence. It seems a simple, almost formulaic plot: Christmas dinner with the Berzattos. They’re Italian American, so you know going in that there’s going to be lots of gesticulation and exhortations, and tons of personal drama.
What you don’t expect is the slowly building suspense, built around the vying personalities, that reaches a thunderous ending. It builds so slowly, so carefully, that you don’t even notice it until you are utterly embroiled in it. The direction and pacing is so immaculate that you come away with the impression that the whole thing was filmed in a single take. It wasn’t, but it’s that seamlessly constructed. It will remind you of some of Aaron Sorkin’s finest work, only with less purposeful striding about by the characters. You’ll be mesmerized by a simple object; a completely normal salad fork.
It’s very intensely character driven, a human drama in the finest meaning of the phrase. It is lovely, it is tragic, it is unforgettable.
And, like the other shows alluded to above, it’s this episode that rises so far above the norm that positions The Bear to become one of television’s greatest series.
Now on Hulu.