Why relatable characters matter
Two frustrating seasons of The Bear is enough for me
I want to like The Bear.
It has been nominated for awards.
People whose opinions I respect and listen to like it.
I have worked in restaurant kitchens and read a couple Anthony Bourdain books.
It seems like a show made for me.
Yet, I only enjoyed certain parts of it.
I’m going to spoil the story a little bit describing what I liked:
Good episodes and great shots
The season 1 finale was well done. It had a strong build across it’s last 20 minutes.
I enjoyed the stretch from Carmy reading the note in the alley, to everyone opening cans of tomatoes, to the last shot of his older brother.
The use of Radiohead on the soundtrack fit the closing scenes. It was a touching payoff. I finally understood why Carmy loved his older brother.
In a season 2 episode, Sydney eats her way through Chicago, stopping at many different restaurants. I liked seeing the unique range of eateries in the city, and watching her collect inspiration and crumbs of business wisdom along the way.
There’s a funny scene where Sydney, in her naive and awkward way, tries to convince a few tired cooks on their smoke break to come work at her new restaurant.
Watching her get chased off by their equally weary chef was amusing.
The Bear has many closeup shots of vegetables being chopped and dishes being plated that look like bright paintings in motion.
Towards the end of season 2, right before they open the restaurant for family and friends night, there is a long, lingering shot of Carmy and Sydney talking under a table.
I liked being with just the two of them, mentor and apprentice, free from distractions, and hearing Sydney let out her insecurities about being a leader in the kitchen.
It was relatable.
Each of us has gone through at least one challenging time where we reached out to someone more experienced for guidance and outside confirmation of our abilities.
Sydney’s main character flaw
Besides her lack of confidence, Sydney’s other weakness is her impatience. She badly wants to be recognized as a talented chef.
Sydney’s inability to wait destroyed the restaurant’s forward momentum in season 1.
Despite Carmy telling Sydney that her special dish wasn’t ready for service, she secretly gave it to a customer, not knowing the customer was a food writer.
A glowing review is written and the restaurant gets attention.
The same day the review is published, an online ordering system is implemented.
Sydney has been pushing for online ordering all of season 1.
The kitchen is then overwhelmed with orders. Her impatience has created chaos for her co-workers and they have to shut down.
Sydney is a relatable character. She wants to keep improving as a chef and be acclaimed, yet she’s not totally convinced of her own skills.
There’s also tension between Sydney’s desire to be great now, and Carmy’s wariness of the restaurant industry and willingness to take a long-term approach.
Carmy’s clear purpose
In season 1, Carmy is focused on only two things:
improve his brother’s restaurant
figure out why his brother committed suicide
We don’t know a lot about him as a character. His family is messed up, he’s spent years working at the best kitchens in the world, and he’s an extremely talented chef.
There’s something pure about watching him squat in his kitchen whites and smoke cigarettes behind the restaurant, lost in thought, or scrub the floor alone at night.
Carmy has a few epic meltdowns over two seasons.
He does manage to rescue his brother’s restaurant, in a way.
He never solves the mystery of his brother’s suicide, but then there’s never one clear reason why someone kills himself. People are complicated. Suicides are complicated.
While not as relatable a character as Sydney, Carmy’s ambition to build something great is understandable.
Marcus in his cubby hole
As a former college football player who stumbled into becoming a pastry chef, Marcus has a believable backstory.
It’s easy to imagine Carmy’s brother hiring Marcus because he was impressed by his previous life as an athlete.
I understand Marcus because he lives in a bubble. He’s a craftsman. He obsesses about making donuts or some other dish, and Carmy has to work to get his attention.
Quiet Marcus is also a welcome counter to the constant, messy shouting of the other characters.
The story about a sick and bedridden mother feels tacked on and unnecessary, but the budding chemistry between Marcus and Sydney is cute.
Tina takes the opportunity
Tina brings middle-age maturity and slowly recognizes the life-changing chance she has been given to apprentice under Sydney.
Her transition from surly grump to flourishing cook and leader is a little sudden, but I like Tina as a character, so I’m willing to suspend my disbelief and accept the change.
Ebra is a useful contrast.
Despite being similar in age, he doesn’t seize the opportunity offered, drops out of cooking school, and is sent to a corner of the new restaurant serving old sandwiches.
Ebra fades away from the story.
“Lifelong learner” is an overused term, but, in this case, Tina is just that.
I’ll always root for a character who humbles herself and tries to grow later in life.
Natalie is just there
While I like a a few episodes, some shots, and four characters, the main reason I’m giving up on The Bear after two seasons is the other half of the cast.
These characters are not relatable.
Natalie was an afterthought in season 1.
She would show up occasionally to nag her brother Carmy, then promptly disappear.
Natalie has more to do in season 2.
Carmy and Sydney have hounded her into managing the restaurant’s renovation, and she does well at it, staying up on all the necessary permits, licenses, and inspections.
Yet, I’m indifferent Natalie.
It’s implied that Natalie has her own separate career, besides helping Carmy, yet we never see her mention working two jobs or quitting her first position.
Natalie becomes pregnant and there’s no memorable exploration of it. Why does she want a baby? How long had she been trying? Her pregnancy just kind of happens.
I was often confused by the character’s name, too. She’s referred to as “Nat”, “Sugar”, or “Bear”, a name many characters on the show are called, for no apparent reason.
When off-screen, another character would reference Natalie as “Nat” or “Sugar”, and I would think, “Who are they talking about? Who’s ‘Sugar’? Who’s ‘Nat’?”
Not all characters can be memorable. Some help move the plot along.
Natalie’s fine, but she’s just kind of there, and I don’t feel any connection to her.
Richie’s unconvincing change
While I’m apathetic towards Natalie, I don’t like Richie.
Towards the end of season 1, I kept hoping he would be written out of The Bear.
Richie was an impediment to the changes needed at the restaurant. What could they get done without him?
Late in season 2, we are told repeatedly that people like being around Richie. It’s as if the characters on the show say this again and again to convince us, the audience.
I don’t like being around Richie.
He’s loud, he smokes, tells stories that go nowhere, and every fourth word out of his mouth is an F-bomb. Richie’s as charming as an ingrown toenail.
Is Richie meant to be an unlikable character for season 1 and most of season 2? Are we supposed to despise him so that his change of character is all the more heartening?
Unfortunately, Richie’s change doesn’t ring true.
We have watched him dig in his heels and resist change for all of season 1 and the majority of season 2, be mostly incompetent, and have other characters, like Sydney, comment on his incompetence, then, within the span of three episodes, Richie’s done a complete reversal and is now professional, reliable, and useful.
All it takes for his turnaround is one week staging at a high-end restaurant, two conversations with his supervisor, and a heart-to-heart with the head chef.
That’s it. Now he wears a suit to work every day.
The aspect of his change that is the most difficult to accept is his sudden ability to call out orders to the cooks in the season 2 finale.
Where does this emergent talent come from? How is Richie suddenly able to see “patterns” in the orders, calm the chaos, and save the busy kitchen?
While I prefer watching a character be competent rather than incompetent, this is just a leap too far.
The Bear is a story, and I will suspend my disbelief if I like the character.
I did that for Tina when she changed from prickly cook to kitchen leader because I like Tina.
I can’t do that for Richie. I don’t like Richie.
Perhaps if The Bear hadn’t made him such a useless boob for all of season 1 and most of season 2, I could get there.
But I can’t, so his change is implausible, and I’m unable to relate to both Old Richie and New Richie.
What the Fak?
Like The Bear itself, I want to like Fak.
Matty Matheson, who plays Fak, is Canadian and the same age as me. His YouTube cooking videos are both instructional and entertaining.
I enjoyed his interview on The Joe Rogan Experience.
Matheson seems like a grateful, down to earth person who has given up the crazy chef’s life he actually led to be a responsible adult. Good for him.
At least in the seasons I watched, Fak only has two modes. He’s either childishly endearing, admitting to Richie that he’s scared of the dining area or telling Carmy he loves him, or being the “comic relief.”
Regrettably, I don’t find Fak funny.
Too often, a “comedic scene” between Fak and Richie is just them screeching and cursing at each other, fighting like children over who gets the last cookie in the jar.
Who is Uncle Jimmy?
A graying man with a huge gut and two stick arms who cusses like Richie, the characters on The Bear vie for Uncle Jimmy’s attention and respect.
Why?
Because he’s wealthy.
How did he get his money?
We don’t know.
Why is he called Uncle Jimmy if he’s not related to Carmy, Natalie, or Richie?
We don’t know.
Why does a rich man who’s not related to this family spend time with them, especially when he considers them to be losers?
We don’t know.
Why did he lend Carmy’s brother $300,000 when he knew he was the biggest screwup of the lot?
We don’t know.
Finally, why is he okay with Carmy and Richie accidentally drugging his son and all his son’s friends at the boy’s birthday party?
We don’t know.
It’s okay not to answer every single question in a story. I like some ambiguity.
But Uncle Jimmy is more questions than answers.
He functions as an older, supposedly insightful, man, who doles out his rub-some-dirt-on-it-and-get-back-in-the-game, school of hard knocks wisdom every now and then.
There are just too many unknowns and mysteries swirling around Uncle Jimmy for him to be an understandable character. He’s more caricature than anything else.
The Bear is a “B-”
I came to this show immediately after watching Shogun.
That was a mistake. My expectations were too high.
There are some good episodes and creative shots in The Bear.
There are a handful of relatable characters, like Sydney, Carmy, Marcus, and Tina.
But half the cast is not relatable.
I’m indifferent to Natalie, found Richie’s transformation jarring, think Fak is irritating, and don’t understand who Uncle Jimmy is.
One way The Bear is the opposite of Shogun is that Shogun nailed all the supporting characters. I would argue that’s why Shogun is a great show.
The same can’t be said for The Bear.
So, I’m getting off here, at the end of season 2, because I can’t keep watching a show that frustrates me so much and so often.
💯 percent with you. I quit the show too and wrote about it.