If "The Bear" revolves around a singular theme, it is unequivocally family. Admittedly, it delves into food, humor, squabbles, financial woes, and past scars, yet these facets seamlessly intertwine to form one vast, familial tapestry. Carmy's return to reclaim his late brother's restaurant was a testament to familial bonds. Richie and the Faks, though not blood relatives of Carmy and Nat, embody the essence of family nonetheless. Tina's maternal warmth and Ebra's quirky uncle-like demeanor complete this eclectic family portrait. Recall, the very inception of the gleaming new Bear stems from Mikey's "family dinner" recipe, which inspired Carmy to opt for smaller tomato cans. At the Bear, whether working or dining, everyone is enveloped within this familial embrace, whether they embrace it or resist.
Syd's internal conflict this season stems from her ambivalent feelings towards Carmy and her indecision about departing the Bear. When she initially joined the Original Beef, it was merely a job. Though she was aware of the restaurant world's all-consuming nature, she could hardly have foreseen the daily drama or the Berzatto-adjacent affection she would encounter. She's yet to fully grasp her assimilation into their clan, an integration that transcends mere employment. Her departure would resonate beyond professional realms; it would feel deeply personal. While she's somewhat cognizant of this, she might underestimate her significant place in everyone's hearts.
In a parallel narrative, Carmy too had to sever ties with his family at one point. Strained relations with his mother, whom he hadn't seen since the "Fishes" dinner, and Mikey's rage and addiction issues pushed him away. With Sugar and cousin Michelle's support, he fled to New York, seeking solace and distance from the Berzatto chaos. His eventual return underscores the unspoken pact one makes for family. Similarly, Syd shouldn't feel compelled to stay solely due to the affection she receives from the Bear crew. However, if she chooses to leave, it should be with dignity, not as an abrupt abandonment to tote Shapiro's somewhat condescending waters across town.
When Syd learned of her father's heart attack, fear gnawed at her—not just because her father is admirable, but also because, as Tina reminds Marcus grappling with his own father issues, it serves as a poignant reminder of our parents' mortality. We are all fallible beings: when calamity strikes one of us—be it cancer, a heart attack, addiction, or anything else—an invisible clock starts ticking, counting down to our own end and someone else's inevitable, heart-wrenching loss. Tina solemnly intones, "There's always a clock."
The profound lesson drawn from this medical ordeal resonates through Claire's visit to comfort Syd in the hospital's hush-filled waiting room. As Syd weeps, her voice breaking with the constant presence of her father in her life and her yearning for him to have the luxury of worrying solely about himself, Claire sits in serene silence. Molly Gordon's portrayal of a thoughtful, empathetic listener is nothing short of masterful. Once Syd's tears subside, Claire shares her understanding but emphasizes a hard-earned wisdom from her hospital stint: the essence of life lies in mutually sharing our worries. Life's purpose, she muses, is forging connections. Love, Claire continues, is a poignant reminder of our vitality and our innate capacity to care—a sentiment that echoes Sugar's words to Carmy in season two's second episode, where loving is most special precisely because we are capable of it.
Thankfully, Syd's father pulls through, for I cannot fathom a world without the occasional TV presence of Robert Townsend as Emmanuel Adamu. His portrayal exudes a profound depth of love, even when his dialogue is minimal. He embodies the quintessence of fatherhood, radiating warmth and wisdom, particularly when he firmly, yet affectionately, discourages Syd from moving back with him, likening himself to an unyielding "Iceman." My heart ached alongside Syd's during that poignant scene.
This episode also weaves in various subplots. Shapiro's (perhaps penitent?) call to Carmy hints at upcoming revelations, while Francie Fak's reintroduction teases an encounter soon to come. Meanwhile, Ebra's relentless pursuit of beef window excellence unfolds. The window crew, reminiscent of season one's playful antics, strives to refine their craft, scraping and scrapping for that competitive edge. They may not excel in everything—Ted Fak's involvement says it all—but in beef window perfection, they shine, discreetly working towards their goal without Carmy and Sugar's knowledge.
While the beef window anchors the show to its season-one roots, the integration of the Bear's New Class—Jess, Luca, and Chef Terry's team—into the restaurant adds fresh dynamics. Subtle shifts might be afoot in Jess and Richie's relationship, perhaps igniting at Tiff's wedding. Jess's grounded sensibility could anchor Richie while propelling him forward; together, they could weave magic, whether romantic or platonic. Luca's pastry work with Marcus is delightful, yet I ponder if Carmy brought him in as a potential successor, should he choose to step away from the Bear. Luca's prowess is undeniable, and his desire to extend his stay in Chicago, despite his accent's comical excess, is evident. Above all, this episode underscores that at the Bear, there's ample room at the family table for everyone. If Luca and Jess once felt like distant relatives, they are now full-fledged cousins, strengthening The Bear's familial bond and, in my view, enriching the series.
