The Bear Season 2 Review: The Intense Series Serves Up Something Fresh, With No Sophomore Slump On The Menu

When you think of "The Bear," you probably think of the intensity of the characters yelling at each other in a crowded kitchen, fighting against the clock to get something on the plate. But as Christopher Storer's series begins its second season, "The Bear" feels like a kinder, gentler show — at least based on the first four episodes given to critics to review. I have no doubt the intensity will return — this is "The Bear" after all — but the softer side of the show is worth embracing. There's also a kind of heist movie/getting the band together vibe as the second season begins, with the ensemble working their various skillsets as they attempt to turn a local Chicago sandwich joint into a Michelin-star restaurant. 

In season 1, troubled culinary genius Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) inherited his dead brother's sandwich shop and almost immediately butted heads with everyone who already worked there. They were used to doing things the old and established ways, and Carmy wanted to take them in a bold new direction. The only person who seemed to see his vision, at least at first, was the new sous chef Sydney (Ayo Edebiri). But by the end of the season, most of the crew had come around to Carmy's ways. On top of that, they discovered a ton of money that Carmy's brother had stashed away in tomato sauce cans. 

Enough money to open a new place. Maybe.

As the season begins, Carmy figures they'll need about $95K to remodel the sandwich shop into a fine dining experience. That's a rough guess and as it turns out, they're going to need something closer to $500K. To complicate matters, they already owe a lot of money to Carmy's uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt). Carrmy comes up with a solution: Jimmy will lend them the rest of the money they need, and if they're not open in a certain amount of time, Jimmy gets the lot the shop is own, a spot worth millions. Now the clock is ticking. Can the gang pull this off?

"The Bear" drops all of its episodes at once and is therefore designed to be binged. This can make it feel like the dreaded show-length movie, an idea I'm not exactly fond of (let a movie be a movie and a TV show a TV show, damn it!). But while one episode rolls into the next, creating a bigger picture, the episodes on their own feel uniquely contained. They're part of a fuller tale, but they stand on their own feet, feeling like a series of short stories in one big book. 

The camera is frequently shoved close into the actor's faces, effectively putting us into their headspace while creating a cramped, claustrophobic atmosphere. And Chicago looms large in the background; we open on a cold, blue Chicago morning, complete with a skrim of ice clouding a windshield, waiting to be scraped away with frozen hands. Also looming large: food, lots and lots of food. A montage sequence sends Sydney on a tour of local eateries and gives her (and us) one delicious-looking plate after another. 

The countdown to the opening provides the show with an anxious, potentially ominous framing, but there's a kindness here, too. Kindness in the way Sydney asks Tina to become her new sous chef; kindness in how Carmy interacts with Sydney and the others — he teaches Sydney the sign language for "sorry," something that the two of them will end up using in the kitchen frequently. Then there's Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Carmy's volatile "cousin." Richie can be the most abrasive character on the show, but even he's changing, reading self-help books, and working on anger management. At one point he's on the verge of blowing up at someone, only to stop himself to count down from ten. But his insecurities still lurk — he tells Carmy that his greatest fear is that he'll be left behind while the rest of them move forward. "I'm 45 and I've been here a long time, you feel me?" he says, the sadness and regret thick in Moss-Bachrach's voice. It remains one of the best performances on the show.