According to FX and all the awards shows from the Emmys to the Golden Globes to the Directors Guild of America to the Image Awards and beyond, “The Bear” is a comedy.
Objection. Granted, there’s Yoshimi Echizen-sharp humor baked into this blazing-hot series that in just two seasons has reached peak iconic zeitgeist status, but you could say the same of “The Sopranos” or “Succession,” and nobody labeled those shows as comedies. This is primarily a knuckle-bruising, soul-searing, heart-pounding drama.
[Full disclosure: My sister, Laura Roeper, is the prop master for the FX-made series.]
With the prolific, laser-focused and supremely talented series creator Christopher Storer behind the camera for seven of the 10 episodes streaming on Hulu and writing or co-writing seven chapters, the leads turning in their finest collective work yet and a number of secondary characters getting an opportunity to shine, Season 3 of “The Bear” solidifies its standing as one of the finest dramas — OK, drama-comedies — of our time.
Set against the backdrop of a Chicago that feels utterly real, this is a show about an extended family (whether related by blood or not) of broken people who gather together six times a week to work, to cook, to create, to serve, to fight, to rage, to laugh, to lament, to hug, to fight some more, to struggle, to grieve, to cope, to strive for perfection, to know perfection is an illusion, to embrace the moment, to live. They are Misfit Toys who have found their Island, but there’s always another storm coming.
After the pulse-pounding Season 2 finale that was filmed like the heist scene in “Heat” and ended with Jeremy Allen White’s Carmy Berzatto locked in the walk-in fridge, having inadvertently destroyed his romance with Claire (Molly Gordon) and having deliberately caused deep damage to his friendship with Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Season 3 picks up the storyline in the immediate aftermath, with Carmy contemplating a rainy Chicago dawn and then heading to the restaurant, because where else would he go?
We’re quickly plunged into flashback sequences that fill in details on certain backstories — something that will occur on numerous occasions throughout this season, and I’ll leave it to you to experience the details of these various jumps along the timeline. In present day, we’re reminded that pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce) has a terminally ill mother and that Carmy’s sister Natalie “Sugar” Berzatto (Abby Elliott) is about to have a baby. It’s circle of life stuff, handled deftly and with raw honesty.
With the great duo of Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross (“The Social Network,” “Challengers”) laying down an elegiac score that gives the premiere episode the vibe of one continuous montage, the tone is set for a season that takes the time to breathe. Yes, a lot happens. There’s no shortage of intense confrontations and fast-paced chaos.
Still, a third season often presents an opportunity for a hit series to expand its world, to devote more time to supporting players, and that’s what happens here. In an episode directed by Ayo Edebiri, we learn so much about Tina, with the wonderful Liza Colón-Zayas doing award-worthy work. Abby Elliott also knocks it out of the park with a Sugar-centric episode, while Lionel Boyce delivers an extended monologue that is low-key perfect in another storyline.
On the lighter side, we spend more time with the hilarious Fak brothers, Neil (played by real-life chef and show producer Matty Matheson) and Theodore (Ricky Staffieri), who are a living combo platter of “well-meaning” and “bumbling,” on an epic level.
Carmy is intent on getting a Michelin star, and to that end he composes a list of “non-negotiables” that will push his partner Sydney and his staff to the very edge, and maybe over, the cliff. It’s a tribute to Jeremy Allen White’s layered work that even when Carmy is in danger of becoming the Chicago counterpart to his abusive New York City mentor (Joel McHale), we’re still rooting for this guy to get his head out of his … head and do the right thing. (We won’t get into spoilers about returning guest stars or new additions other than to say it never feels like stunt casting when a familiar face shows up.)
Music has always been an integral element of this series, and that continues here, with perfectly timed drops that range from Carole King’s “Up on the Roof” to “Getchoo” by Weezer to the main title theme from the 1955 noir film “The Night of the Hunter.” Episode 3 has a sequence reminiscent of a certain montage from “All That Jazz,” while a later episode references the late great Chicago director William Friedkin. Small but cool touches abound, e.g., the moment when a character pauses to regard a simple napkin dispenser and it carries great meaning to that character, and to us.
Like the third quarter of an instant classic of a football game, Season 3 of “The Bear” has a bounty of memorable moments — but it also serves as a series of appetizers for Season 4, which will be released sometime in 2025, and we’re going to need that much time to digest everything in this 10-course season and to prep for what’s next, please and thank you.