It’s Closing Time for The Bear

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Spoilers follow for the entirety of season four of The Bear, including the finale.

In true fashion of The Bear’s fourth season finale, “Goodbye,” the narrative centers around a pair of heated confrontations unfolding within a cramped setting. The initial spat ignites between Carmy and Sydney, who reacts angrily upon learning that not only is he departing from the restaurant but also bestows a substantial share of the struggling establishment upon her – without prior consultation, mind you, as Carmy’s still got a bit of jackass in him. The second altercation ensues between Carmy and Richie, who storms into the fray, explodes at the revelation, and the ensuing argument escalates to a fever pitch. As the verbal battle reaches its climax, the narrative pivots towards the simmering animosity between the two men, stemming from their complex ties to Mikey, who persists in haunting the restaurant and their lives. When Carmy discloses that he indeed attended his brother’s funeral, a truth he’d carried with him in shame, Richie’s rage spikes even further.

However, the climactic conclusions in both instances lead to what seems like a concluding phase for Carmy, the emotionally guarded protagonist of “The Bear,” who has been the show’s intriguing puzzle. His inherent dependence on anxiety serves as his internal motor yet also triggers self-destruction, making him remarkable even as it persistently dismantles him. In the final episode, Carmy confronts the trap of his joyless lifestyle for the first time and declares his intention to leave the kitchen, possibly permanently, in pursuit of personal growth. “I’m not sure I love it anymore,” he confesses about the profession he once used as sanctuary. “I don’t know who I am.” The series has been gradually leading to this introspective moment, and a significant portion of this season set the stage for this turning point. In the second-last episode, Natalie poses a question to Computer, the financial analyst Cicero hires to explain their grim prospects: “Why continue?” Instead of pondering their survival, he queries, “Why would you keep going?

The final scene unfolds with two heartfelt reunions leading up to Carmy’s departure. Sydney concedes to his leaving, as well as the restaurant, but on her own conditions, which involve including Richie in the ownership group. Richie reciprocates by understanding Carmy’s needs and their relationship. In true Bear fashion, after finding Mikey’s cash hidden in cans of tomatoes, witnessing Carmy’s emotional breakdown in the locked freezer, and the unexpected arrival of a review from the Chicago Tribune, the season concludes with a suspenseful cliffhanger. A series of silent scenes depict Cicero and Computer’s countdown clock, initially introduced as a timer for the money’s expiration date, reaching its end.

The series “The Bear” should conclude permanently here, an unusual choice for a final episode given its unconventional nature. However, considering the peculiarities that have characterized Christopher Storer and Joanna Calo’s production from the start – such as its unique pacing, atypical release format, and contentious classification as a comedy – nothing about it has been predictable or ordinary.

The fourth season has largely functioned as a lengthy farewell for Carmy, the show’s apparent protagonist. After resolving issues with Sydney and Richie, and wrapping up all outstanding matters, Carmy ends this season by growing personally. This development is reflected in the finale, which echoes the structure of the third season premiere, “Tomorrow,” a dreamlike tale that leaps through time and kitchens as it recounts years of Carmy’s apprenticeship.

The premiere evoked a sense of anticipation; in contrast, this finale feels like a drawn-out release. In the end, Carmy expands beyond his previous self, which mirrors the growth we saw in the season three opener.

This recent episode marks a significant change in direction for “The Bear,” underscoring the series’ broader themes. Initially, it was a story about a troubled individual trying to transform a rundown sandwich shop into something more significant. However, as the seasons progressed, the narrative and concept of ‘greatness’ evolved. Beginning in season two, “The Bear” started to emphasize its diverse cast, with Carmy no longer being the sole focus. Characters like the Faks became integral parts by the end of the series.

In season four, we witness multiple storylines that go beyond Carmy’s, reflecting this shift in emphasis. Marcus, grappling with his mother’s death and the aftermath, gains recognition as an emerging chef from Food & Wine magazine. Ebra, who faced challenges in culinary school during season three, finds a new purpose running the sandwich counter with aspirations for franchising it. Richie experiences some resolution regarding his parenting and relationship with his daughter.

While not every character’s journey concludes neatly, this is a natural outcome of “The Bear”‘s transformation. As the importance of characters in the show expanded, it was inevitable that some would receive less attention. Tina’s arc feels underdeveloped, while Sweeps’ oenological education doesn’t lead to a significant payoff this season. Nevertheless, these are the consequences of “The Bear” evolving as a series.

Although there’s some debate about whether seasons three and four were filmed consecutively, it’s evident that they operate as a connected duo. This is apparent in the narrative structure, such as Tiff’s engagement to Frank, hinted at midway through season three, not fully resolving until late in season four. However, it’s worth mentioning that the show seemed to view its double-season renewal as an opportunity to expand, which wasn’t entirely beneficial.

The Bear utilized the additional space to explore new storytelling techniques and rhythm, occasionally resulting in intriguing outcomes; I, for one, appreciate the dreamlike quality of “Tomorrow.” Nevertheless, the extra room generally made the show significantly less appealing. It developed a tendency towards self-indulgence, reacting to the acclaim of its stellar second season with unchecked vanity. At times, it even approached self-parody: the abundance of Pearl Jam, excessive use of popular music, leisurely tempo, shouting, guest appearances, passionate speeches about the grandeur of restaurants, an endless procession of Faks, and lengthy monologues.

In summary, while some parts of the recent seasons may have been poorly executed, I found the overall arc and final destination of the show intriguing. The shift in focus from Carmy to the collective team in “The Bear” seems to challenge the stereotype of the solitary, tormented high-end chef. This theme is most clearly conveyed through the show’s portrayal of the kitchen as a makeshift family. For instance, the wedding episode featuring Tiff ends with Richie smiling at a group photo labeled “THE BEARS.” It might seem cheesy, but I concur with my colleague Kathryn VanArendonk that it works well. Despite its classification as prestige TV, “The Bear” has always been more palatable when served with a generous helping of sentimentality.

The conclusion of Carmy’s storyline marks a fresh start as “The Bear” concludes, seemingly passing the role to Sydney. From the very beginning, their destinies were interconnected: While the series followed Carmy’s journey towards self-transcendence, it also chronicled Sydney’s emergence. Naturally, fans who ship SydCarmy, being what they are on the internet, existed, but their bond was based on a mentor-mentee relationship that echoed Don Draper and Peggy Olson with hints of BoJack Horseman and Diane Nguyen.

Sydney enters Carmy’s world out of admiration, seeking his guidance to grow, but over time becomes subtly disillusioned while understanding him as a fallible human being. Initially hesitant and annoyed by her ambition, Carmy eventually recognizes that Sydney represents the person he aspires to be himself. In the finale, he tells her, “You’re everything I’ll never be.” He describes her as compassionate, emotionally open, capable of leadership, and a great teacher. “You’re doing all this stuff for every right fucking reason,” he says.

In a similar vein to his quiet support of Marcus, Carmy tries to help Sydney by stepping aside and creating space for her success, believing that it is the best way he can contribute at this point in their journey. This ending mirrors their intertwined storylines perfectly.

As of now, it’s undecided if “The Bear” will have another season. FX has not released any updates, but given its success, it’s likely that the show will continue. There’s definitely a way to move forward with the story, particularly focusing on Sydney as she struggles to keep “The Bear” running and make it her own. Carmy’s role could be reduced to a more minor character like Cicero, or he could even be written out entirely. Alternatively, we could follow his journey as he discovers more about himself. (Though, how many seasons does personal growth take?) The series could continue without a central “will they succeed?” plot and instead portray the rhythm of everyday life.

Instead of persisting further with the story, saying “Goodbye” provides a fitting end that wraps up the show’s main themes. Carmy leaving and Sydney rising signifies a logical ending that respects the progression of their interconnected tales and the emotional development of the series. Proceeding beyond this point might lead to self-indulgence, similar to Carmy getting stuck in a loop due to obligation rather than intent. Many characters are on the brink of finding their true purpose; extending their struggles seems unnecessary. Just like Carmy, knowing when to depart can be the most impactful action.

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2025-06-27 00:54