Disclaimer: 100% this essay will contain spoilers of The Bear. Heard?
I finished both seasons of The Bear in four days.
For some reason, the pacing of the kitchen makes you feel like time is going by so fast that you’re glued to your seat and holding your breath figuring out what happens next.
I’ve taken a chance on watching the first season of The Bear early this year, when I just got back to Berlin. In Abbey times, we call this the wreckedt era because I was fresh from my breakup and needed a cathartic thing to watch to distract my brain.
Obviously, bad idea, as the anxiety and tension built up from this show made me question why I decided to watch it in the first place.
Eventually, I stumbled upon this video essay that made me reconsider watching it again, and here we are, shocked faces and all, writing this essay and sharing with you how much it’s affected me (so much so that I dreamt I was in the same kitchen the night I watched an episode before going to bed).
Show, don’t tell
Over the years, I’ve learned how to actively watch shows and be observant. Let me explain what this means in my context.
I have a habit of rewatching—usually shows with several seasons that I can play on the background while doing mundane things. Current one I’m rewatching is Brooklyn 99; usually I also put on New Girl or Schitt’s Creek (all of which are my favorite shows).
For shows that require more thinking and allow you to notice more in general, I tend to give full attention to it, especially when I’m watching for the first time. I would say most shows that fall in this category are the ones that are always discussed in video essays on YouTube because there’s so much to process and discuss about certain scenes or storylines.
This “show, don’t tell” writing technique is one I personally enjoy diving deep into, especially because it forces you to 1) pay attention, 2) ask questions, and 3) keep watching.
Most of The Bear’s episodes are written in a “show, don’t tell”1 format. Which made me ask questions off the top of my head every time I finished an episode:
Why is Carmy running a sandwich shop?
Wasn’t he an award-winning chef?
Why is Richie so mean? What’s his deal?
What does Every Second Counts mean?
Why The Bear?
All of these questions and more were obviously tackled in the show, but the slow unfolding and putting the puzzle pieces together makes it more worthwhile. The viewer is working extra hard to obtain this information, and I like that.
Drove to Chicago…
In “Review” (S1E7), as much as the episode unfolds into a mix of stress, tension, and arguments in the kitchen (which apparently was shot in one take2, WOW) we see an opening sequence that feels like a love letter to the city of Chicago, with Sufjan Stevens’ Chicago playing in the background.
The song sounded familiar to me; only to realize it was the same song used for The Politician’s opening sequence3 (which is one of my favorites, that I never skipped).
I went to Chicago briefly in the summer, and I loved the city—it had its own charm and grunginess and it was full of character. In a way, I do like the feeling of seeing how places I’ve been to are portrayed on television.
This opening sequence cuts to scenes where we see the kitchen staff on their route to work, mostly in a pensive mood and wondering how the day will unfold.
It’s an interesting addition, because for the entirety of the show, we only see them in action in the kitchen; not outside of it. It’s easy to forget that they have a life outside of their job, and it was important to see them humanized through those scenes.
It’s a love story
Redemption arcs are my favorite. I’m reminded of Fleabag S2E1, where we see the titular protagonist get a glow up and generally in a much better place than she was in the first season.
In The Bear’s “Forks” episode (S2E7), we focus on Richie, the deemed antagonist of the show, as he is sent by Carmy to stage (pronounced staj, not stage) at a high end restaurant in the West Loop.
It’s very Groundhog Day-esque4, with the scenes cutting to his alarm clock going off each day (and the different times he snoozes it), driving his car, going to the restaurant. But it’s in the little things that we see how he transforms.
There is a scene in that episode, where Garrett, who is supervising Richie during his week staging, says: “You don’t have to drink the Kool-Aid, Richie. I just need you to respect me. I need you to respect the staff. I need you to respect the diners. And I need you to respect yourself.”
I think that’s where everything made sense to him—that he lacked respect with himself. And he needed that in order to respect others.
Suddenly, he wakes up before his alarm goes off. He walks his way to the restaurant, eager to learn, eager to be better. We see his character’s potential grow, and we see him become the person he’s always meant to be. And eventually, we see him blasting in the car to Taylor Swift’s Love Story after a fulfilling day at service. Loved that for him.
I’m also reminded briefly of both Syd and Marcus—Syd, when she goes around Chicago trying out different meals for research (lowkey jealous of her visiting Kasama because I did not bother with the line when I was there), and Marcus when he trains under Chef Luca in Copenhagen (which apparently was the same training Carmy had undergone before). I loved those episodes.
Ultimately, The Bear is all about love. For food, for service, for the people that run the show. For the ambitions, for the big dreams. And for the possibilities and opportunities that come with staying hungry for more.
It’s in the details
One last thing I’d like to point out is how insanely detailed this show is.
In some episodes, the first scene shows b-roll clips of little details. A photo. A sticky note with FRIDGE GUY boldly written on it. Fire. Receipts piled up in a corner. The cutaways and transitions when they were leading up to the opening of The Bear struck me the most. They wasted no prop for sure; it was so good. Most of all, it made me feel so involved as the viewer. That proximity said it all. It was all so zoomed in, right in your face.
When friends ask me what industry I’d consider working for if I didn’t pursue my current creative career, I always joke around and say, “probably working at a restaurant or having a food channel”. I don’t know why, but there’s something about the adrenaline, or the tension, or the art of making food look and taste good that propels me to want to work in that industry (theoretically).
Maybe this was brought about from my younger years, watching Food Network half an hour before I start my homework. I also got to intern briefly for a food blog, and worked on food related art before I dabbled into lettering and journaling. Or maybe I just really like films and shows that involve food and cooking, like Ratatouille, or Julie and Julia, and the reminder that food brings people together, any way you put it.
But what I’m taking away from this show isn’t just a higher level of appreciation for people who work in food service. It’s the tenacity. The willingness to keep going.
Because that’s all we have to do in this life, right? To keep going, and to make every second count.
Favorite scenes that live rent free in my head:
Syd preparing an omelette for Nat. I ended up buying eggs after and wanting to prepare something simple for when busy work days come up.
Carmy and Syd fixing the table together and having a moment. No, I don’t ship them! Keisha and I were discussing what relationship they had and we said it was comparable to Sam and Sadie of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (which deserves its own essay soon).
Richie meeting Chef Terry for the first time, and she tells him, “He (Carmy) believes in you, you know.”
When they passed the fire suppression test and the examiner goes, “You have a restaurant!” Y’all I SOBBED.
PS I love how they named the episode titles. Again, show, don’t tell.
PPS Thanks to my friends Koko, Ch, and Keisha for listening to me talk about The Bear for the past week and counting. Thanks in advance to my friends whom I’ve been convincing to watch The Bear, you will not regret it. I’m looking at you, Job and VA!
Show, don't tell is a narrative technique used in various kinds of texts to allow the reader to experience the story through actions, words, subtext, thoughts, senses, and feelings rather than through the author's exposition, summarization, and description. (Source: Wikipedia)
Check out this video
Here’s the opening sequence (it’s also one of my favorites)