The opening shot is of the church, stained glass, holy and quiet. It’s the day of Marcus’s mother’s funeral. All of The Bear and half of the neighborhood are in attendance. Marcus is poised and strong at the dais as he eulogizes his mother. He says something poignant that resonates with everyone about how he and his dying mother communicated better when she was sick and dying. Even though she couldn’t speak, he says he never felt more loved. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a parent, but I know what it’s like to be a kid and having someone really, actually pay attention to you. Well, that was really special.”
As the camera pans over all the major players in The Bear (the show), it’s recognized that the restaurant won’t implode if they communicate better and love more. The love must happen fast because The Bear (the restaurant) is officially open to the public. Classical music is played as we see the digital clock underneath the kitchen’s entrance; Sydney preps her station for the night, including the big extra wide cup of Coke with ice that’ll carry her through. Carmy checks in and realizes that Sydney has taken the list of “non-negotiables” and made the margins wider. (“So you can write in the margins.”)
Richie strolls into the kitchen, suited up like a fucking stingray, and checks in with Carmy and Sydney. “You good?” Everybody’s good.
Sydney calls it.
“Doors!”
(“Doors!”)
And we’re off. The first hour’s worth of orders goes eerily, uncomfortably smoothly. All the non-negotiables are clicking, and there have been exactly zero meltdowns so far.
But we know better. At The Bear—chaos reigns.
The first cracks emerge—Sweeps (Corey Hendrix) breaks the cork in the wine. From there, the classical music remains, but the camerawork and editing suddenly become more frantic:
Then there’s an order screw-up, followed by Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) undercooking the Wagyu, which Carmy promptly trashes, setting Richie off. “You fucked me!”
Carmy reminds Sydney of the standard: “If it’s not perfect, it doesn’t go out.”
Non-negotiables!
As The Bear slogs through its opening week, the miscues and the madness begin to swallow everyone. To make it even more stressful, Cicero storms into the kitchen and gives Carmy shit about his $11,268 butter order.
“What is it, a rare Transylvanian five-titted goat?” (Dynamite line, Cicero.)
Richie complains that the execution in the kitchen is destroying his front-of-the-house system, so he puts together his own list of non-negotiables. (Highlights: “Trim nails” and “joy” and “basic human decency” and “an environment that embraces and encourages razzle-dazzle and a dream weave.”)
The week continues, each night blurring into the next, and we see quick camera cuts of the burning sauces, the broken dishes, the cut fingers, the yelling, and then even more yelling. Fak fails to bring the fancy mirepoix broth to the table, and Carmy loses it on him, causing Richie to push back and stick up for Fak. (Amazing Richie insult at Carmy during this sequence: “Don’t talk to me until you’re fully integrated, jagoff!”)
We cut to Sydney’s vantage point as she becomes increasingly swallowed up by the stress:
And the monotony:
Meanwhile, Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) is overwhelmed by the Italian beef sandwich window. He is drowning in bread, paper wrappings, and beef juice. There are too many orders and not enough sandwich hands.
Cicero continues to complain that the restaurant isn’t making any money. Sugar says they need to turn over more tables per night for that to happen, and reminds Cicero that they aim for a Michelin-level dining experience and require high-end dining. Cicero doesn’t calm down and blames Carmy. “It’s like a three-year-old with too many crayons!” (He’s not wrong.)
Richie tries to institute a faster turnover plan for the staff, and they begrudgingly oblige. But things get worse before they get better, especially when Richie sends in a customer’s modification request for “no mushrooms.” Carmy and Richie promptly snap and knock over all of Sydney’s expo.
We see Carmy melting down on the line, consumed and crushed by the messes he’s made in the kitchen and his personal life.
And then the episode ends in full-on ass-to-ass, Requiem For a Dream mode.
This is not the razzle-dazzle dream weave anyone expected.
THE BEAR SEASON 3 EPISODE 3: LEFTOVERS
QUESTIONS I STILL HAVE: What is “Tuesday Surprise?” We see a portion of it when Fak rolls in with a stuffed pināta, and a super-soaker water gun appears on the list of expenses. But what is it? It’s “actually really,” Sugar says. My curiosity is off the charts.
MIDDLE-AGE DAD NEEDLE DROP: None. Unless you’re the type of middle-aged dad who digs into the “Sunday with Brahms” hour on their local A.M. radio. No shame if you do!
CARMY ARM PORN: Tendons for days.
THE BEAR – SEASON 3: WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW
Can’t get enough of The Bear Season 3? For more insight, analysis, GIFs, and close-ups of Carmy’s arms, check out some highlights of Decider’s coverage:
- The Bear Season 3 Full Review: Carmy secures his role as the chairman of the Tortured Chefs Department
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 1 recap: “Tomorrow”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 2 recap: “Next”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 3 recap: “Doors”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 4 recap: “Violet”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 5 recap: “Children”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 6 recap: “Napkins”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 7 recap: “Legacy”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 8 recap: “Ice Chips”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 9 recap: “Apologies”
- The Bear Season 3 Episode 10 recap: “Forever”
- I found the Chicago Tribune’s restaurant review of “The Bear,” the Windy City’s hottest new eatery
- The Bear Season 3 Ending Explained: Does Carmy and Sydney’s restaurant survive?
- Want to join in on the action but don’t have FX or Hulu? Smash that subscribe button below.
A.J. Daulerio is a Los Angeles-based writer and editor. He is also the founder of The Small Bow, a recovery newsletter.