The Bear: Season 5 - Review

Rating: 5 out of 5

THE fifth and final season of The Bear was a tasty treat - full of the flavours that we have come to know and love: high stakes tension, emotional character beats and both a satisfying continuation and conclusion of the show’s main themes.

It once more confounded expectations by framing most of the action around one particularly stressful day - seven of the eight episodes, in fact, were contained within that seemingly limited time frame.

But through torrential rain, broken down plumbing, food supply shortages, the usual in-house tensions, over-bookings and VIP guests (including a critic who could award a coveted Michelin star), the show once more balanced the demands of its will they or won’t they survive premise with complex issues relating to family, grief, mental health, trauma and suicide.

But then The Bear has never really been just about food or the restaurant business, as some critics seem to have mistaken it for. Rather, for me and countless other fans, it’s about the messiness and complexity of life; of how you pick yourself up once you’ve been knocked down; of the bonds that exist between people and the need to feel and be human in a world that can too often exist to break, belittle and burn you out.

It’s why, in its most seminal moments, the show has felt genuinely inspirational; yet also highly relatable. It has always been able to find the heart amid the chaos, however frenetic and nerve wracking some episodes became.

Season five’s decision to set events around a pivotal day felt ballsy but right. And it seamlessly mixed together all of the vital elements that have helped make The Bear the unequivocal success that it is.

The inclement weather almost served as an apt metaphor for the psychological turmoil of its main characters, for whom this day marked something of a crunch.

This was the day they had to put personal issues aside (almost) to focus on saving their restaurant - and yet, doing so was easier said than done. The personal baggage is what has come to define them.

For the likes of Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) and Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) it’s a heady mix of grief, anger and guilt over the suicide of former Beef owner and family member Mikey (Jon Bernthal), whose larger than life presence still looms large. Carmy is also grappling with the past trauma of ritual humiliations at the hands of bullying and antagonistic former mentors, as well as a psychologically unstable mum (and upbringing), with all of the insecurity that brings. But then Richie is also struggling with insecurity… caused by a lifetime of what he views as screw ups, bad choices and unreliability. Now, at the threshold of realising the potential that Carmy always knew he had, he seems reluctant, even afraid to take that next step.

Richie has long been one of my favourite characters, with season 2’s Forks perhaps his defining episode, but watching him finally take the steps needed to come into his own was a genuine pleasure. You laughed at his inability to let anyone down by cancelling not a single one of the overbookings (a measure of that steadfast desire never to let anyone down throughout his life, which made the loss of Mikey all the more unbearable for him). You marvelled at his ability to problem solve in the moment (even seating diners in the kitchen when necessary). And you felt a warm glow whenever he got close to Jess (Sarah Ramos).

If Richie remains my personal favourite, then maybe it’s because his arc resonated more than most. But it’s a measure of how brilliant this cast has been throughout that saying goodbye to everyone was genuinely heart-breaking - while also profoundly moving given how much each deserved their happy ending.

And those endings weren’t saccharine in the worst Hollywood style. Nor were they full stops or definitive.

The Bear’s arc has not so much been about overcoming trauma as learning to live with it, and in some cases gaining permission (from yourself) to move on. This was never more apparent than in Carmy’s trajectory, or Richie’s.

But for Syd (Ayo Edibiri) there was also personal triumph in overcoming her own self-doubt and insecurity, stepping up to the role of head chef and out of the shadow of Carmy’s brilliance. The gradual way in which she grew into the day (with some of her steps forward tempered by occasional ones back) was another brilliant showcase of her acting talent.

I also loved Marcus’ (Lionel Boyce) growth and the first tentative steps to patching up his relationship with his father, on his own terms. It felt real. As did his friendship with Luca, the excellent William Poulter. It made their fallout, when it happened, all the more gut wrenching and yet understandable within the context of the past hurt that Marcus has felt (and abandonment).

Tina (Liza Colon-Zayas)’ emergence as a highly competent CDC was also richly rewarding, especially when viewed against the context of her backstory (as revealed in the season 3 standout Napkins).

And even the likes of Oliver Platt’s volatile, now cash-strapped Uncle Jimmy and Abby Elliott’s Natalie came to find some kind of peace and sense of ownership in their lives - again, beautifully realised.

All of these lives will continue, of course. The Bear and its staff will do what they do, under the sustained uncertainty of life in service. But while some questions undoubtedly remained (will Carmy succeed as a trainee architect? Will Marcus properly patch things up with his dad? Will the franchise take off?), there was a nice sense of closure, as though the inspiring events of episode seven, Caramel, provided an appropriate jumping off point.

Did we need an eighth episode after the emotional perfection of Caramel? Arguably not. But then again, why the hell not?

For those of us who have cried along with these characters, agonised with them, got stressed with them and, above all, rooted for them, The Original Beef of Chicagoland was like a surprise extra dish at the end of a supremely tasty meal.

Yes, it was sentimental. But boy did it deserve to be. And there was something genuinely satisfying and soul enriching in being able to witness some of the takeaways: Syd chilling out with her dad on her day off and him beaming with pride; Marcus and Luca (Will Poulter) parting on good terms; or Tina and her husband enjoying her promotion while walking along the street together.

Better yet, a more relaxed Carmy making playing a practical joke on an angst-ridden Richie by pretending to be stuck in the fridge again.

Or - and I’ve saved the best for last - Richie and Jess heading off to Japan together, holding hands, and clearly in a relationship. The seeds had been sewn ever since Forks, but it was still great to see Richie get that happy ending.

And the final shot of the whole cast together, at a surprise birthday party for Richie’s daughter (with even Jamie Lee Curtis, Odenkirk and Josh Hartnett present) was like a theatre curtain call… a triumphant final farewell that invited a deserved round of applause (or raising of the glass) from viewers In appreciation of the show’s sustained brilliance.

The Bear succeeded as spectacularly as it did because it was always a show about so much more than food. It made us laugh and it made us cry. It stressed us out and bummed us out. But it accepted and embraced the imperfections and tragedies of life and the scars they sometimes leave.

In doing so, it made the successes all the more inspiring…. which was why that final victory lap had us brimming with such pride, while wearing a big smile and wiping those tears from our eyes.