Donna radiates a newfound glow. "Tonnato" seamlessly continues from the cliffhanger of the previous episode, with Carmy tapping hesitantly at his mother's door. As it creaks open, her bouncing curls catch the light, her nails gleaming with freshness, and though her face still bears the marks of a lifelong smoker, there's an undeniable sparkle and clarity in her demeanor, a shift unseen in past seasons. Perhaps this transformation is what prompts Carmy to give her the chance she seeks, inviting him in.
At first, he tries to resist – he is Carmy, after all – but eventually, curiosity pulls him into the sleek, two-story suburban mansion. He creeps cautiously through the haunted dining room featured in "Fishes," his gaze momentarily lingering on Mikey's now-empty chair, before settling in the kitchen with his mother. Together, they flip through faded photographs of assorted eccentric relatives, including an unexpected sight: Laura Linney, Cicero's first wife and Oliver Platt's co-star from "Big C," among them. But it's a picture of Mikey that shatters Donna's composure. Her grief is profound, and Carmy, sensing her pain, allows her to fish out a crumpled piece of notebook paper from a desk drawer. Scrawled across it are her heartfelt apologies, acknowledging her wrongs and expressing regret for being a flawed parent and family member. She laments how even positive news about her children stirs guilt, believing she contributed nothing to their successes. Her nearly year-long sobriety, though insufficient, marks a step in the right direction.
Donna's monologue is heart-wrenching, not solely due to Jamie Lee Curtis's powerhouse performance – she's been extraordinary as DeeDee from the onset – but because it resonates deeply. Parental guilt lingers after every misstep, a relentless negotiation with oneself. Each perceived slight feels like a precarious slope leading to a future therapy session, and the imagined guilt of not just crashing through the living room but also indirectly contributing to a child's demise is unimaginable. Donna wasn't responsible for Mikey's fate, a fact she may subconsciously grasp, yet she can't shake the belief that she played a part in it, constantly reliving the regret.
As parents, we strive to surpass our own upbringing, grappling with the futile task of focusing on our triumphs rather than shortcomings. Unfortunately, Donna's missteps may outweigh her positives, yet we know her only partially. Her background, laden with unseen burdens entering motherhood and marriage, isn't an excuse but a reminder that her journey is complex. All she can do now is confront her past, apologize sincerely, and pave a better path forward.
Carmy's reconciliation with his mother doesn't herald smooth sailing for the Berzatto family from this point onward, but it's heartening to witness two souls acknowledge their imperfections and embrace the notion that both bear some responsibility in being more accountable to those around them. Carmy's gesture of cooking an exquisite French Laundry-inspired chicken for his mother—a dish that likely kept him tethered to the kitchen throughout the day—and wandering through his childhood bedroom encapsulates this tender moment. Inside his closet, he "discovers" Claire's old green sweatshirt, perhaps an innocent coincidence given their similar size, but more likely a keepsake he surreptitiously took during the hustle and bustle of Richie's birthday bash. It's a quirky act, yet somewhat endearing.
Elsewhere, at the Bear, Cicero halts his restless pacing to engage Syd in a heartfelt conversation about her mother and their bond forged over the past year. Despite the financial turmoil the Bear has placed him in, prompting a move to a condo as Donna reveals, owning the restaurant has bestowed upon him a newfound empathy. Once seen as a somewhat unscrupulous figure with fleeting moments of humanity, he now seems poised to make the right decisions for the Bear and its team.
Cicero's reluctant embrace of the beef-window franchise idea, thanks to an impromptu encounter with Rob Reiner's character, Albert Schnurr, serves as a timely boost. Schnurr, acting as a mentor, allows Computer to arrive at the concept organically, and Computer quickly buys into the potential lifeline it offers. Meanwhile, Cicero feigns indifference, honking from the car, but one can't help but think that this news, coupled with Sugar's announcement that Marcus has been named one of Food & Wine's best new chefs, could buy the Bear a few precious months of survival.
Marcus's accolade from Food & Wine is indeed sweet justice. After a year marked by adversity, his culinary innovations have been nothing short of visionary. While Syd's scallop dish has garnered much attention this season, Marcus's creations have consistently pushed the boundaries of creativity. Remarkable for someone who once donned the uniform of McDonald's.
Though Syd's eyes betray a hint of sadness over Marcus's honor, she masks it well, especially after receiving a call from Pete revealing Carmy's complete severance from the Bear's ownership agreement. This was as I had suspected, though the specifics of his exit were uncertain. Yet, his actions could be deemed noble. Undoubtedly, the Bear owes much of its existence to Carmy's vision and leadership, but his heart no longer resides there. He may ultimately become more a part of the restaurant's past than its future, leading one to ponder the implications for both the Bear and, indeed, the fate of 'The Bear' itself.
