The Bear: Aiming to put the fun into dysfunctional

The Herald Scotland

07-07-2025

Storer opened with the make-or-break review from the Chicago Tribune we spent series three waiting for (yes, it was that exciting). As expected, it was a mixed bag, at once praising the restaurant's ambition while slating it for chaos and inconsistency. Sounds familiar.
Storer had a choice here: to double down on the unhappiness of his characters, or strike out for pastures new. A major clue was the scene involving culinary wonderboy Carm (Jeremy Allen White) and fellow chef Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), the sensible one. After he is told it is okay to cut back on the chaos, Carm breaks into a smile, and something approaching a chuckle. The Bear gets happy - I kid you not.
That's the good news. The bad is that the restaurant is bleeding money and will be forced to close in months if they can't land that star. Finally, a cause that everyone can rally around. Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), still the show's secret sauce, can forget his ex is getting married. Sydney can seize the day and sign the partnership agreement. Carm can start helping people again instead of screaming at them.
There was so much motivation in the air I half expected the theme tune from Rocky to strike up. Everybody loves a comeback tale, right? Whether the hard core fans of The Bear will feel the same I'm not sure. Can a show built on the unhappiness of its characters change so much and have the same appeal?
Something weird is going on in TV quiz land. Tradition had it that celebrities only popped up to do a turn at Christmas. Now they are everywhere, all the time, elbowing the civilians out. And they're not even doing it for the sake of charidee.
Celebrity Puzzling (C5, Monday) seemed to have done away with prizes altogether. There was presumably a fee in it for those taking part, but otherwise, what do they gain? A place to rest their weary bones as they go up or down the snakes and ladders of celebrity, perhaps.
Host Jeremy Vine knows that game well, having once presented Eggheads. There was more quiz royalty with Carol Vorderman as a team leader, and taking her on was writer/producer/actor and 5 regular, Sally Lindsay.
It was Vorderman and Lindsay's job to lead different 'celebrities' into battle each day, and yes, I'm afraid the quote marks were necessary in some cases.
The games were a couple of notches up from Bridge of Lies, but nowhere near as ridiculously complex as David Tennant's Genius Game. Vine took no one to task for getting an answer wrong because it wasn't that sort of show and he's not that kind of guy. That style went out the window after the disastrous (and short lived) reign of Anne Robinson on Countdown. Just as crime turned cosy, so minor league quiz shows have become nicer, sillier, and just for fun.
'It is going to a closing date.' The words no househunter in Scotland wants to hear, even if they were spoken by Phil Spencer, the planet's nicest estate agent and co-host with Kirstie Allsopp of Channel 4's Location, Location, Location (Wednesday).
The reaction from Miriam, looking for a family home in Glasgow, was swift and familiar to anyone who has been in the same choppy waters.
'I actually feel sick,' she said. Such is the terror of the closing date.
The personal trainer and her husband David, a health and safety consultant, had sold their first home and moved in with his parents. Miriam had packed for four weeks. Eight months on, they were still there.
Miriam knew what she wanted, and that it was not going to be easy.
'My ideal house would be sandstone on the outside and new build on the inside. I don't even know if that exists.'
First filmed in May 2021, this was that staple of property shows, a 'revisit' episode. Catch-ups serve two purposes: viewers like to see how stories turn out, and Location gets a return on its investment. Find or don't find a property, the production company gets a programme either way.
Back in 2021 the first stop in the search was a house in Bellahouston. Kirstie had come along for a nosey. 'It's a bit of a project,' Phil warned.
Having said they were open to a project, Miriam and David realised a doer-upper was not for them after all.
On to King's Park and a terraced house with parking. 'It doesn't wow me,' said Miriam. Inside was a different matter. A modern home in walk-in condition, this was a contender, even if David, 6ft 5in, had to do some ducking.
House number three was in East Kilbride, detached, lots of space. Miriam was keen on this one, while David was sticking with King's Park. They eventually decided on the latter, only for Phil to drop his bombshell about a closing date.
Fast forward two years to 2023 and all was revealed. Now a one-baby, two-dog household, the couple didn't offer on King's Park. Instead, they found a home in Cambuslang, one that Phil had considered showing them but rejected because it was outside their top spots. So it's not always about location, after all.
Soaps can make a name for themselves in all sorts of ways: with a shocking crime (the first episode of EastEnders); a disaster (Emmerdale, EastEnders, Coronation Street); scandal (Brookside, first lesbian kiss); or revelation ('YOU AIN'T MY MUVVA!').
Yet it's the quieter moments that are more likely to stay with viewers. In my mind's eye I can see Hilda Ogden opening her late husband Stan's glasses case. It seems like last month rather than 1984. I recall, too, the credits rolling in silence, save for Hilda crying.
Soaps need a delicate touch at times, and if you can put a dash of humour in the mix, so much the better. The Hilda scene, for instance, was preceded by Vera and Ivy conceding that Hilda, for all her faults, was a decent sort.
The lightest of touches was on display this week in River City (BBC1, Tuesday). Yes, that River City, the Glesga-set soap that's wall to wall gangsters if you listen to its detractors,and the drama that will be no more after autumn next year.
The scene involved Angus and Bob sitting on a couch, about to watch some daft movie or other. Just two old pals shooting the breeze.
It has been a rotten year for Bob. Last summer, his fiancée Kim died. It was possibly the least showy death in soap history. She sat on a bench, she closed her eyes, and she passed away. She did get engaged minutes before, mind you, and she had recently been in a horrific car accident. Viewers were genuinely upset. Bob was left a single dad.
Now here he was, reassuring a nervy Angus about the joys of being a dad. It's the most exciting thing you will ever do, he said.
'As exciting as watching people trying to stop a shark from causing nuclear Armageddon?'
'Is it a great white?'
'A massive white.'
'I'd say it's on a par.'
Written by Emma Lennox, produced by Deb Charles and directed by Meg Campbell, it was a small scene that said so much about what makes River City tick. There's a shared history here, a sense of humour that's in with the bricks. It takes years to build this kind of atmosphere, yet it can disappear in the flourish of a BBC executive's pen.
Miriam, David and son in their new home (Image: Channel 4)
River City has to go because it is not passing the value for money test, says BBC Scotland management. Compared to big hitters such as Shetland - average audience 700,000 in Scotland - River City isn't cutting it with just 200,000 viewers. Tell that to the viewers, many elderly, who have stuck with it through months of crazy scheduling. Tell that to the cast and crew who will be out of a job. What a shame.