In the final moments of BearThe third season, The Chicago TribuneCarmy’s (Jeremy Allen White) restaurant-clinching review begins, and an intentionally vague selection of highlighted words flashes across the screen. Some of these words (“excellent,” “innovative,” “brilliant,” “delicious”) suggest success, while others (“confusing,” sloppy,” “inconsistent,” “disappointing,” “stale”) scream failure. After taking it all in, Carmy utters a simple “son of a bitch,” leaving viewers to ponder his fate until Season 4.
In a twist that may be ironic or a self-fulfilling prophecy, depending on your perspective, it’s easy to imagine Bear Creator Christopher Storer echoed Carmy’s “son of a bitch” reaction as reviews for the latest batch of episodes of his Emmy-winning series began to roll in over the weekend. With over 500 ratings on Rotten tomatoes, Bear Season 3 currently has a 59% audience score, compared to 92% for Season 1 and 95% for Season 2. And despite a 94% Certified Fresh Tomatometer score from 69 critic reviews, some professional writers have also had serious issues with Season 3. Some feel that the season is “Half raw.” Others call it “exaggerated”. And Slate’s Jack Hamilton punched the series in the gut by… declaring that “Bear “Not a good program” at all in an essay that went viral last weekend.
Before arguing that Bear Season 3 isn’t THAT bad — let the record show that several complaints resonate with me. In retrospect, the “Fak attack” scenes, which put the spotlight on Neil (Matty Matheson) and Ted Fak (Ricky Staffieri), were a bit too abundant. Carmy’s frequent flashbacks and Storer’s ambitious technical stunts were, at times, a bit much. And the plot development was painfully slow. But when I watched all 10 episodes in one sitting in a single day, the season’s overwhelming mental montages, unsettling reflections on past trauma and regret, and infuriating lack of communication between characters also felt like… the point.
Despite the progress Carmy made throughout BearIn the first two seasons, the president of the Tortured Chef Department wasn’t exactly in a solid place, mentally speaking, before his accidental confinement in the refrigerator in the Season 2 finale. He spent the magnificent second season striving to better himself while balancing a new restaurant and a new relationship, but he also actively let go of a host of unresolved issues and insecurities. After letting his team down on his big opening night, Carmy regressed emotionally, flashing back to his days as an up-and-comer focused on his ruthless pursuit of perfection. In Season 3, as he attempts to make up for his mistakes, he overcorrects to his own detriment, giving in to his worst impulses and embodying the very chef who made his life a living hell (Joel McHale).
From the montage-filled premiere to the lingering flashbacks of the finale, Carmy’s agonizing actions and behavior toward Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) and Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) are fueled by memories of past mentors, meals, lessons, mistakes, pain, and inner demons. While some feel the constant flashbacks, isolating introspection, and lack of present-day conversations are a crutch, they’re also palpable proof of Carmy’s self-sabotage, overthinking, and negative self-talk at work. The frantic, confusing flashback scenes effectively mirror Carmy’s mental torment, both narratively and stylistically, taking viewers inside the chef’s mind to emphasize just how relentless and severe his anxiety is. Does the drawn-out runtime feel a little too heavy-handed at times? Absolutely. Does repetition always result in compelling television? No. In Season 4, the show should take its own advice and “SUBTRACT.” But as someone who struggles with anxiety, the creative decisions also feel real and relatable, as does the glacial pace of Carmy’s internal progress in Season 3.
As Vulture Notes: “Carmy can’t move forward as long as his past haunts him, both professionally and personally; the season also circles back and forth, covering the same ground and unable to get anywhere new.” While the lack of narratives moving forward in Season 3 is frustrating, before Carmy can change his feelings, his relationships, and the future of his restaurant, he has to change his thoughts and behaviors, which is easier said than done. While his avoidance may be taking a toll on BearThrough narrative progression, the show’s bold and unconventional depiction of grief shows an incredibly human struggle.
Though Storer decided to make some big artistic changes in Season 3, I have faith that she could have conveyed the same message without forcing her audience to experience what began to feel like Carmy’s every thought. Whether you love the creative decisions or hate them, though, given what we know about Carmy’s character and her unwavering trauma, it would also feel inauthentic for her to quickly snap out of her Season 2 finale slump for the sake of story progression. The season feels out of place and aimless, in part, because its characters feel the same way.
With two top-level seasons under his belt, Bear The backlash was inevitable. And while I agree that Season 3 is the series’ weakest yet, it still boasts several standout episodes, plus stronger acting, directing, writing and production that drew fans in in the first place. It still evokes incredible emotions and still received immense praise in reviews that pointed out its flaws.
I think I can speak for all fans of Bear When I say that no one, not even Carmy himself, wants to be stuck inside Chef’s head for another season, but existing in the uncomfortable space that Season 3 creates feels intentional and hopefully essential to whatever it is. Bear has in store for Season 4. Taking issue with the season as a whole is fine, but dismissing a show in its entirety because one season fails to dazzle feels like Carmy-level myopic overcorrection.
Bear Season 3 is now streaming on Hulu.
