The Bear Season 4 review: Jeremy Allen White serves a three-course season but Ayo Edebiri is the one ‘cooking'

Indian Express

6 days ago

Never thought I'd say this, but The Bear has gotten soft,and honestly, I'm not sure if it's a good thing or bad. The clang of metal, the manic rhythm of a dinner rush, the adrenaline-laced cry of 'Yes, Chef!' –– all of it once collided into something electric. When it first arrived in 2022, The Bear felt like being thrown into a boiling pot with the lid sealed shut. It was trauma, dysfunction, chaos, and pain, all served rare, bleeding through the script. It was about people who barely liked themselves, let alone each other. The show didn't try to fix them, and it didn't try to save them. It simply observed as they burned.
But four seasons in, things have shifted. The knives are still sharp, but somehow, don't cut the same way. The fire is still there, but now, it simmers instead of roaring. Urgency is less, melancholy is more. There's more space to breathe, maybe, but also more time to wonder whether we've started going in circles.
And fittingly enough, that's exactly how Season 4 begins –– Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) asleep on the couch, dreaming of another conversation with Mikey, as Groundhog Day plays faintly on the television. A clever nod, yes, but also a silent scream. Are we stuck in their lives now? And more importantly, are they?
The Bear – the fine-dining phoenix that rose from The Beef's ashes – is still reeling from a punishing review by the Chicago Tribune. The restaurant is clawing to stay relevant in a scene that demands nothing short of perfection. Tension simmers in every direction –– creative, emotional, logistical.
Carmy is a man drained of spark, haunting his own creation. He watches his colleagues Sydney, Tina and Marcus cook with the kind of passion and precision he once carried in his bones. Now, he is pushing away the very people still trying to believe in his vision and is trying to find the Carmy, who is not 'just a Chef'.
Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), meanwhile, stands at a personal and professional crossroad. She's offered an opportunity that could finally give her the validation and peace she's long been denied. But leaving The Bear isn't just a job move. It means walking away from a dream she helped build. From a makeshift family she never asked for but somehow became entangled with.
Episode 4 arrives as a palate cleanser. Unexpected and disorienting, like stepping outside the kitchen after a long shift. It lifts you momentarily out of the Bear-verse and lets you breathe. It's a clever structural pivot, a necessary exhale. A reminder that The Bear can still stretch its limbs when it wants to.
Episodes 5–7 are the mains — hearty, flavourful, familiar in the best way. The dialogue tightens. The emotional undercurrents swell. The camera finds its rhythm again. Episode 7 becomes this season's 'Fishes' — not for the chaos, but for the emotional reckoning. For the way guest appearances are folded in to make you feel again. To remind you why they're still here. And why you are.
Episodes 8–10? A final dessert course — rich, risky, and deeply satisfying. These last episodes land with emotional precision. They hit hard, and they hit honestly. The Bear once again makes you feel something you didn't see coming. These episodes make you want to return, to sit back down at the table, to stay in that world.
One of the season's most fascinating shifts is this: as The Bear flourishes, Carmy begins to quietly fall apart. He's no longer the raging genius at the pass. He's slower, quieter, fading. Jeremy Allen White plays him like a candle melting from the inside — still glowing, but barely. He's not leading anymore. He's lingering. He's the man everyone has to work around. It's painful to watch, and that's the point. Somewhere in Season 4, Carmy stops being the heart of this kitchen. He becomes its haunting.
Sydney, on the other hand, is finally stepping into her own narrative. Ayo Edebiri is cooking this season — no pun wasted. She's always been the soul of the show, even when she wasn't at the center. This season just confirms what many suspected from the beginning: it's her story now. Edebiri's performance demands attention. She doesn't steal scenes, she absorbs them.
You could accuse The Bear of recycling itself. The same emotional storms. The same unresolved fights. The same monologues about pressure, purpose, perfection. And you'd be right. But the show's alchemy lies in its ability to make the familiar still hurt. You see it coming, but it still guts you.
My relationship with The Bear is, frankly, toxic. And I say that with affection. I hate that it keeps emotional overstuffing on the menu. I hate that its characters seem to learn nothing. I hate that no one's gone to therapy in four seasons. But I also can't quit it. I can't look away. Somewhere between the trauma, the yelling, and the strangely beautiful cinematography, The Bear became more than a show; it became family. And like a Berzatto, I guess I'm stuck in it now. You don't leave your family. Even when it's not always good for you.
The Bear Season 4
The Bear Season 4 Cast – Jeremy Allen White, Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Ayo Edebiri, Lionel Boyce, Abby Elliott, Jaime Lee Curtis, Oliver Platt, Molly Gordon, Will Poulter, Jon Bernthal
The Bear Season 4 Director – Christopher Storer, Janicza Bravo, Duccio Fabbri
The Bear Season 4 Rating – 3/5