An Appreciation Post For The Bear
I have but one beef for this sublime show.
So while I have been tirelessly keeping up on And Just Like That (no regrets, but not a brag, either), in the in-between I’ve been watching The Bear season two and I FINALLY finished. I was hesitant to bring it up in real life conversations because I was so afraid of spoilers, while at the same time taking my time with it (even as an insatiable TV watcher, not a fan of dropping all episodes at once. The stress! The pressure!)
Oh and with my own sensitivity in mind, stop reading if you haven’t watched this season of The Bear! Or don’t, you’re an adult.
The first season of The Bear was called tense and stressful; I agree, but it didn’t deter most of us, and with season two, that sensation generally gave way. Instead the structure now is about building a sense of light dread—what’s going to go wrong in Copenhagen? Is Tina gonna be ridiculed at her cooking school? And the show subverted that, giving you ups when you were scared of downs; relief after building a domino game of tension, like when the best man at a wedding finally makes the most mediocre of jokes in his toast but you guffaw because it’d been an uncomfortable roast before then. It’s the weirdest feel-good show of the summer for that reason.
And this season! I’ve heard people say the second season was better than the first, and I struggle with that, because the second season could only reach the heights it did because of the foundation the first season laid down. Season two was like a reward for getting through the tribulations of Carm and the gang. In the first season, people are screaming at each other, walking out, machines beeping, and so angry at each other. save for the star-studded Christmas flashback, it’s been replaced with love, affection, and a circular rubbing of one’s chest to say “we’re good, boo.1”
Speaking of that Christmas episode: goddamn. Who knew Britta was married to Richie?! Or that John Mulaney could show such range… to play himself with another name? I kid. Incredible episode flanked by other incredible episodes. I have nothing else important to say that hasn’t been said except that I hope I have occasion to quote “I wear suits now,” in the near future.
I hope everyone wins the Emmy they’re up for. I hope season three can continue to build on top of what season two achieved. I hope the WGA/SAG strike is resolved so we can get another excellent installment of TV, where everyone is paid fairly. I hope Jon Bernthal burns that Christmas wig (but not Jamie Lee’s, because that’s a look she should rock).
Oh and yes, I do have one single beef for the gang who runs the artist formerly know as The Beef: there is no way on God’s green earth Richie got Taylor Swift tickets. Or at least, there’s no way he got them easily—he had to have used Uncle Jimmy or done something unsavory. And when Britta heard that he got those tickets, there’s no way she didn’t scream and dump the new fiancé for a chance to see Miss Americana! But that’s it: 10/10, one note.
Don’t do this with your boo. It won’t be original.