Written by Adam Kline
The Bear has become a critical-darling at the Emmy awards (which aired September 15), winning 10 Emmys for season one and 11 for season two. With the third season having been released this past June, The Bear has quickly become a cultural touchstone.
It’s a culinary, slightly comedic, emotionally intense, shared experience for multiple generations. And while the vulgarity and brashness may be a turn-off for some viewers, the story does have a familial core. At the centre of almost every episode are the actions and influence (for better or worse) of family and friendships.
In season one, Carmy Berzatto returns to Chicago after his older brother Michael has committed suicide and left him his sandwich shop, The Beef. Carmy had been slightly estranged from his brother and family for several years, living in New York and working his way up in the culinary world, becoming a Michelin-Star chef. But now with the death of his brother, Carmy must reconcile himself to his extended family and their repressed traumas, while attempting to run and improve a failing business.
Chaos ensues, as one might imagine, but the chaos and stress is captured on screen with a unique cinematic kineticism. The camera movements, editing, and rapid-fire dialogue pull us into the psychological state of these characters.
In an interview with Esquire, co-creator and showrunner Christopher Storer shared some of the show’s underlying motivations:
When I was growing up, my household was kind of gnarly. I had mental illness and addiction in my family. I go to Al-Anon all the time. I’m still dealing with this, as an adult, and finding healthy ways to approach it. Some of the same thoughts that I was feeling about my family I noticed in a lot of toxic work environments…. In this particular kitchen, one of the things we really wanted to discuss was that Carmy has seen these kitchens, he has been around some of these toxic workplaces, and he’s like, “I’m gonna not do that.”
Even in season three, after the sandwich shop has been transformed into a fine-dining experience with a demure ambiance, just on the other side of that kitchen door we find an explosion of emotion—from repressed rage and unaddressed emotional wounds to fractured friendships and a far-from-harmonious work environment.
The show does a good job showing how each kitchen staffer or member of the Berzatto family is carrying a weight or burden in their own way. And over the course of three seasons (with a fourth arriving in 2025) almost every character is given the opportunity to experience a true arc on screen.
Whether it’s intergenerational forgiveness and healing between a mother and daughter, or vocational redemption as one cousin discovers his passion for hospitality, or an older employee gaining a greater sense of self-worth and purpose—everyone in this show is given a chance to be seen and known, and that’s a pretty powerful thing to bear witness to.
The Bear reminds us that everyone has a story. At any given time, in any given room, the people around us are all going through something. A story such as this has the potential to expand our empathy and understanding for others, especially those we are closest to or situations where we have a lot of responsibility.
In a sermon on forgiveness the early Church Father Saint John Chrysostom wrote:
If you see a member of your body cut off, won’t you do everything you can to reunite it with your body? Do the same thing with your brothers. When you see that they have been cut off from your love, run quickly and gather them together. Don’t wait for them to come; you should hurry to win the trophy first! We have been ordered to have only one enemy—the devil. Only with him should you never be reconciled. Towards your brother, however, never have a heavy heart. And even if something petty happens, let it pass; do not let it last longer than a day. “Let not the sun go down upon your wrath” (Ephesians 4:26).
Everyone has a story and the opportunity to participate in a redemptive arc. Whether that involves a co-worker, cousin, parent, sibling, or child in your life, there may be an upcoming episode where things could change for the better, where you can extend or receive forgiveness and make peace. The suspenseful question is, will we know our lines and take responsibility when that scene comes?
Adam Kline is a pastor of intercultural missions and a storyteller living in Belleville, Ont. Read more from this column series at loveismoving.ca/behindthescreens.
