It’s still TV’s best and most beautiful series about work and creation. But the new season is a tease.
This article discusses scenes from the beginning through the end of FX’s “The Bear” Season 3, now available in full on Hulu.
No one loves a mixed review. The final moments of “The Bear” Season 3 confirm this, as Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White), the doe-eyed maniac at the center of the dramedy, receives an alert for the make-or-break Chicago Tribune review of his ambitious, cacophonous restaurant. He has imagined a million versions of it — absolute raves, devastating pans. Now it’s here.
We don’t get to see the review, only a Mad Libs rush of contradictory words, out of context: “Brilliant.” “Complex.” “Confusing.” “Innovative.” “Stale.” “Talent.” “Disappointed.” Carmy, alone with his phone and the verdict, lets fly the season’s last words, a hearty curse.
Sorry, Chef: Sometimes the truth is mixed. It is for the third season of “The Bear,” in which one of the most brilliant shows on TV attempts a complex, at times confusing, elaboration on its themes. The 10 episodes are often innovative in execution but sometimes stale in their repetition of established conflicts. It’s an astonishing display of talent. But it is likely to leave anyone hoping for narrative momentum disappointed.
“The Bear” does not lack confidence. The premiere, “Tomorrow,” is a bravura scene-setter that is as much an overture as an episode. Picking up the morning after the Season 2 finale — in which Carmy successfully soft-launches the Bear but sabotages his romance with Claire (Molly Gordon) — it’s an impressionistic tour of his manic consciousness.
There is very little dialogue; mostly this episode, written by the series creator Christopher Storer, tells its stories in a series of quick cuts set to a mesmerizing score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. It dips into the near and remote past, flashing on scenes from the previous seasons, sneak-peeking moments from later in Season 3 and fleshing out events from Carmy’s history. At times it’s hard to tell what’s present and past as you tumble about in his perseverating mind.
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Source: Television - nytimes.com
