How The Bear Jumped the Shark: No, Chef!
In 2022, The Bear exploded onto the scene, with all the cultural force of a new Shonda show or HBO Sunday night drama. Critics praised the series as real, raw, stressful in a good way, and a standout in the post-Peak TV era. Season two rolled around, and the swell of fans rose to even greater heights – a rapturous wave that exalted the series as genius, magnificent, the best thing on television. Then, season three dropped – and was met with an outpouring of public disappointment and critical think-pieces about how maybe the show had been bad the whole time.
What happened? How could such a promising show go from the creme de la creme to last night’s leftovers? And what can future television writers take away from this whole kitchen fire?
SEASON ONE: Appetizer course
Season one was The Bear at its best – a carefully seasoned mix of thoughtful, compact storytelling. We felt this from the first moment of the pilot, which opens on the sound of a burner sparking, followed by a surreal scene of our aproned hero Carmy facing off against a literal grizzly bear in the middle of Chicago. This choice served two purposes, simultaneously – it clued in the audience that this is a show intent on taking creative risks, and it succinctly set up the central conceit, with the bear representing the restaurant, Carmy’s family, and even Carmy’s grief – a wild thing that may never be tamed.
The rest of the pilot neatly teed up the vibe, tone, characters, and episodic engine of the season to come, as a good pilot should. There’s plenty of playing with form (quick cuts, fast push-ins, textured sound design), but never at the sake of story. We’re introduced to an exquisitely cast central ensemble, full of new faces along with a few familiar ones (Jeremy Allen White of Shameless fame, and Ayo Edebiri, best known at that point for her Twitter presence). We also got the driving central question of the show: against all odds, will the restaurant survive?
Season one established The Bear as, essentially, a sophisticated version of a workplace comedy, told through the lens of dark character story, wrapped in a freewheeling postmodern package. It leaned deeply into its location and its restaurant industry setting to power its comedy-drama story engine. There’s episodic and seasonal conflict coming from all directions, from power outages and trigger-happy gangsters to the ticking clock of Carmy’s brother’s outstanding restaurant loan to Uncle Cicero. Carmy’s mission to earn a living from his creative passion also brilliantly unites his A story and his B story, making each episode feel streamlined and high-stakes.
Then came that ending! The tomatoes! I had to come back for seconds.
SEASON TWO: Dinner course
Surprisingly, the show somewhat blew up its premise at the end of season one. A lot of The Bear’s cohesion came from the high-end chef meets low-end restaurant aspect, and through that dichotomy came a thematic discussion about what makes food “good” – is a caustic, “pressure makes diamonds” head chef like Carmy’s old boss really necessary to make a successful restaurant with good food? Can creative passions thrive outside of outdated traditional contexts? The stakes of the show also came from the deeply personal motivation driving Carmy to make the restaurant a success. When they used the money discovered in the tomato cans to gut the sandwich shop and make a new fine dining restaurant, the “high meets low” aspect disappeared, and the stakes loosened dramatically.
The show also lost its ability to lean on its workplace sitcom engine, as the eponymous workplace was being gutted. The writers adjusted for this by sending its characters off on individual adventures, self-contained episodes with a host of new characters and new storylines, leaving viewers with a lot to chew on.
It’s extremely difficult to keep a show going without an engine, and the cracks started to show as the season progressed. The newly introduced Claire character, intended to provide conflict for Carmy, was horrifically underwritten. The comedy aspect of the show largely disappeared. Celebrities also came crawling out of the woodwork – Will Poulter’s eyebrows appeared in Copenhagen, and Olivia Coleman dispensed sage wisdom while peeling mushrooms. The full-length flashback episode, “Fishes,” featured an eye-popping number of famous faces. Celebrity cameos are like sugar – a small amount can sweeten the viewing experience, but too much and it quickly overwhelms everything else, often including the strength of the storytelling and the audience’s suspension of disbelief.
By the end of season two, I was wary, but thought I might have room for a little dessert.
SEASON THREE: Dessert course
As it turned out, the first episode of season three was so underbaked I couldn’t keep going. “Tomorrow” is essentially an episode-long, downbeat montage focused solely on Carmy, characterized by one continuous New Age piano soundtrack – a pinnacle of style over substance. Like dough taken from the oven before it has time to rise, nothing is fleshed out enough to make an impact. We continue to retread Carmy’s same angst via flashbacks, slog through celebrity and chef cameos, and get zero sense of the season to come. Not to mention – there’s absolutely no comedy.
That’s why story engines are so essential! The Bear left its engine in the dust, and the show was bound to flounder. One bite of season three was more than enough for me.
To be fair – it’s hard to keep a show on track after the global spotlight captures it in such a blinding way. After season one, the central cast were immediately catapulted into the Hollywood A-List, which put huge pressure on the writers to churn out seasons before their actors could all get snapped up by other projects. Public pressure combined with heavy time constraints generally doesn’t make for great television.
That said, once you look back at where The Bear started, it’s easy to see where the show went wrong, and what it needs to do to get back on track. For aspiring TV writers out there, the lesson is clear – if you have a recipe that works, don’t throw it out! And don’t overdo it on the sugar.
At the moment, I’m not planning on watching season four when it comes out, but I could possibly be convinced. For now, I’m still digesting.