Latest news with #Carmy
Metro
7 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Metro
TV fans vow to 'never watch again' after drama makes controversial twist
Viewers have turned on The Bear as the critically acclaimed drama returned to Disney Plus for its fourth season, amid the continued presence of one particular character. As the third episode of the latest series played out, Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) issued an apology to old flame Claire Dunlap (Molly Gordon). In this moment, the show revisited one of its more memorable episodes – Carmy being locked in the fridge during a nightmare shift at the restaurant. In scenes which first aired in Series Two, Carmy had driven away Claire (on the outside of the fridge), by ranting that his relationship with her was distracting him from his restaurant duties. It took two more seasons after that, but Carmy finally apologised to Claire for his behaviour in the fridge, albeit very clumsily. However, the decision to revisit the events of this episode has alienated some fans, many of whom have reached their limit with Carmy and Claire. Writing on X as these scenes aired, some viewers shared their dismay at the emphasis on the star-crossed lovers. 'I can't bring myself to watch season 4 of The Bear. Claire ruined the show for me,' wrote kimseokjinsday1. 'Honestly, they could've never written another word about Claire in the script of the bear and I would have been totally okay with that,' said draft_x_. 'Why is claire still on s4 of the bear like wrap it up,' begged bloodrinkcheri. 'I turned off the bear szn 4 as soon as i saw claire,' said mags_pdf. This backlash marks a continued downward trend for the once universally beloved drama – Series One of which still holds a 100% 'fresh' rating on Rotten Tomatoes. The second series, by contrast, remains nearly as highly-rated, at 99%. This was followed by a respectable 89% for Series Three, and a lower 82% for Series Four. While most still recognised it as 'the best series on television,' its detractors have called out its lack of focus and slow pacing – especially compared to the more breakneck, panic-inducing earlier seasons. 'The Bear's failure to pick up the pace in a meaningful way this season has soured things,' wrote The Ringer, while Digital Mafia Talkies described it as 'really bad.' own Sabrina Barr was more positive, praising its character progression and, in particular, an episode co-written by star Ayo Edebiri. With all ten episodes of the show now streaming, viewers have been tuning in (and out) to make up their own minds, contributing to a 70% positive audience score on the review aggregator. The complicated relationship between Carmy and Claire may have proved controversial onscreen but, behind the scenes, their chemistry is going from strength to strength. More Trending Last year, Carmy and Claire stars Jeremy and Molly were spotted in a steamy clinch on the street – seemingly confirming rumours that they had begun dating. This came in the wake of his split from Spanish singer-songwriter Rosalia, who he is believed to have dated from 2023 to 2024. View More » The Bear season 4 is available to stream on Disney Plus. Got a story? If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you. MORE: What happened at the end of The Bear season 3? Ending explained MORE: TV fans hooked on 'banging' sci-fi series after bingeing first 3 episodes MORE: Classic 80s sci-fi thriller removed from Disney Plus over 'unacceptable' scene
Time Magazine
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Time Magazine
Jamie Lee Curtis on Her Big Moment in 'The Bear' Season 4
Jamie Lee Curtis manifested her role on The Bear. She remembers watching the show's first episode—specifically a scene between Carmen 'Carmy' and Natalie, when the chef doesn't have enough money for his restaurant's food supply, so his sister brings him his jacket to sell. Before she leaves, she asks him a question. 'Have you called mom?' He hasn't. 'You should,' she tells him. At that moment, sitting at home inside what she calls her 'witness protection cabin,' Curtis began envisioning what their mother might be like. 'Oh, I think I'm going to be her,' she thought. It didn't take long. In 'Fishes,' the sixth episode of the second season, she debuted as Donna Berzatto, embodying Carmy and Natalie's mother whose alcoholism and mania has turned her home—and large family gatherings—into a mental trauma zone. Though very different from her character, Curtis could relate to Donna's substance abuse issues and mothering challenges, and leaned into her most toxic traits. By the end of the electric and overwhelming episode, for which Curtis won an Emmy, Donna has drunkenly left the Christmas dinner table and crashed a car into her house, effectively fracturing her relationship with her son. But in Season 4, Donna gets a chance to make amends. About five years after the disastrous holiday, she spends the majority of the ninth episode, 'Tonnato,' sharing her regrets with Carmy inside her home. While looking at old family photos together, Donna admits she's been sober a year and then reads an apology letter, acknowledging the pain she's caused and explaining the reasons for her poor choices. Carmy eventually reciprocates, sharing his guilt for leaving the family and expressing his love for her. It's a powerful, emotional exchange that crystallizes the season's redemptive, healing themes. Then, as an act of reconciliation, Carmy prepares for his mother a chicken dinner that he learned to make while training as a chef at The French Laundry. Here, Curtis unpacks that emotionally charged sequence as she talks about the experience of playing Donna, and how her own life informed parts of the character. I'll be honest, I get anxiety every time your character appears on the show—and I think it's mostly because we've only really seen you through Carmy's perspective. What was genius from the beginning was you don't meet Donna for 16 episodes. The anxiety is built up through hearing about her from other people and the amount of anxiety Carmen carries. She's designed to create instability. What I found beautiful is that in episode 10 of Season 2, when they're opening the restaurant and Donna's out front chain smoking—I said to [creator Chris Storer], 'I think [Donna] is sober four months. She has enough self knowledge now to know that she has an effect on people, particularly when she's drinking. And so the pacing in front of the restaurant is the 'Do I? Don't I?' push and pull of addiction, which, when you're newly sober, you're very fragile. You show up in a couple episodes this season, specifically for Episode 9's conversation with Carmen. How does it feel for you to parachute in and out of Donna's headspace every year? We shot Season 3 and 4 simultaneously. So the truth is, I did the scene with Sugar in the hospital, which was an entire episode. And two days later, I did my part at the wedding. And then the next day, my scene with Jeremy at the house. So it was a lot of Donna, which was not dissimilar to the Christmas episode where I came in for like a three-day bombardment and then was gone. I've been an actress since I was 19. I've done a lot of different work. Some of it good, some of it great, some of it awful—much of it awful. Everybody works differently. I also didn't know how Chris worked before we met on the Christmas episode. Our entire relationship was a text relationship where he said, 'So excited you're coming!' And I said, 'How do you want her hair to look?' And he sent me a picture of Monica Vitti. And then I said, 'What about her nails?' And he sent me a picture of the desperate housewives of New York and that was the entirety of the background that I got from him before I walked in the kitchen the day we shot 'Fishes.' I got a sense that he understood that I was going to show up fully-loaded ready to shoot. That gave me a lot of confidence and a lot of freedom because I knew, having seen the level of intensity, what the show was like. What was your initial impression when you read this scene between Donna and Carmy, and how did you want to approach it? People forget that she hasn't seen Carmen since Christmas five years earlier. It's not like there's a chyron that's under the screen that reminds the audience at the wedding. And obviously she has seen the rest of the family. She attended the birth of her granddaughter. She goes to family birthdays. She sees Lee. She sees Jimmy. So there's an indication that she is a part of this interesting melting pot family, but she hasn't seen Carmen. So that moment when she sees him at the wedding—and the way all his friends come around him and are like, 'Hey, they need you in the kitchen right now.' Donna knows what's going on. She's very smart so she understands that this is a big moment for both of them. And then she has that lovely scene with Sydney and then she gets the f-ck out, because she understands. In recovery, there's a phrase, 'We suit up and show up.' So Donna is suiting up and showing up. And of course who does she run into? Michelle. And Michelle says, 'Are you good?' And we all know that question is Donna's fire starter. Right. That is the fire starter, one of those clicking flame things that we all have in our houses to light matches. It's that click. And her response, which is, 'I'm good.' And then get the f-ck out. I'm not going to play Michelle. I'm going to go. And so we've teed it up beautifully. Yep. I'm sober. I've been sober a long time. I talk to a lot of sober people. Part of being sober is acknowledging the past. There is a process within being a sober alcoholic or sober drug addict that in order to move freely into the future, you have to acknowledge the past. I don't think Donna wanted to acknowledge it with him for a long time. I think she's been working on that for the better part of a year. She's had that little piece of paper in her desk drawer, and when he comes over, I think the intention was to see him and keep it light and polite—another phrase we use in recovery. And I think that was her plan until she started going through the pictures and saw Mikey. Yeah, I wondering if you wrote that letter yourself. It was from the script, but of course I did! Was that a cathartic experience—thinking about what that symbolizes generally for a mother to a son, but then also specifically for Donna to Carmy? Very much cathartic. We both knew what we're doing. The script is beautiful. I learned that having a kid who you don't know how to help is one of the most powerless experiences as a parent. I personally have a child with special needs. I have a child who has a learning difference. And the powerlessness you feel when you can't actually help them—you can find people who can help them, but you can't. So the part of that scene that gets me every time is when she talks about Mike. Because clearly Mike had that problem since he was a little boy. And being a parent and not being able to help your kid and not knowing what to do to help them—and finding that alcohol just made it all more palatable and easy—to play a woman who has struggled with that, and then to have the beautiful writing that articulates that exact powerlessness and turmoil, and resulting shame and self-hatred, and then the addiction on top of it—I just thought it was a beautifully constructed. The line that hits me the hardest throughout your interplay is when you tell Carmy, 'I don't know you, and you don't know me, and I did that.' Was there a line or a moment in this conversation that impacted you the most? Oh yeah—what I just said about Mike. I did that as a statement of fact. I have to live with that. She also says it to Sugar in the hospital when Sugar says, 'You scared me and I don't want my baby to feel scared.' I said, 'I scared you?' Hearing that you have that effect on a human being's life is powerful. And so I can totally accept that we're operating as strangers in this family. That is when she really is showing the pain and suffering of her own childhood, her marriage, her being a mother to three. That is when Carmen really softens and says, 'I'm sorry, I wasn't there for you.' What does Leonard Cohen say? "There has to be cracks because that's where the light comes in." That's the moment when you understand that Carmen is now understanding the multitude of Donna and what she has struggled with. What was it like working with Jeremy that day? I feel very motherly toward all three of these kids. I've stayed a little in contact with them in the most cursory way. I'm not pretending we're buddies, but I also reach out occasionally. So he and I have that. Again, not with any supposition that it's more than it is. He's just a beautiful performer. We use the term scene partner a lot in actor talk, but he's a scene partner. We don't rehearse it. We don't talk about it. We stay away from each other until it begins, and then it begins. And he has beautiful eyes, and they are expressive and soulful and sorrowful and very alive at times and very emotional at times. And I think you see all of that in this whole season, but in that scene in particular. And then the coup de grace, which is him cooking for her. I really love that he goes back to his time at French Laundry where he learned to make roast chicken. Do you feel like a meal is one of the kindest gifts you can give somebody? For sure. I'm not a foodie. I was raised by a very skinny woman. Food was not a friend in a generation of women in her industry who starved themselves under the tutelage of the studio system. My mother was incredibly beautiful and she held it all the way through her life. While many of her other friends succumbed to middle age, she starved it away. So I was raised around cereal and a grilled cheese sandwich, which would be like gold for me. But apparently I make really good penne with butter, garlic salt and a little parmesan cheese and my elder daughter, Annie, was talking with her friends about memories in their high school years of having me make that penne. Hearing that that is a memory for my daughter is something comforting. I'm kind of embarrassed by it because it's not a French Laundry chicken. And yet the act of making it and the act of receiving it as something special is very moving to me. Of course Carmy is going to truss and baste and bake and broil a beautiful chicken for his mother. It's a wordless moment and, needless to say, very moving. It's very clear that there's a path forward through that act that is him basically saying, 'I'm sorry that I didn't kind of meet you, that I stayed away from you and that I didn't face this.' It's pretty powerful to end a series on a full-circle moment. He also tells you not to wash chicken in the sink. Yeah, because, of course! What he's saying is that the salmonella goes all over the place. You think it's just going down the drain, but in fact, you're polluting your sink. This season felt very redemptive and healing in a lot of ways. What it was like to have a moment of reconciliation with Donna, as opposed to playing such a vicious antagonist? I'm the child of alcoholics. I'm a sober drug addict and alcoholic. I have lost so many friends to alcoholism and drug addiction. My baby brother died at 21 of an accidental heroin overdose. We're also living in a world that doesn't feel redemptive. When you talk about an antagonist, it feels like there are antagonists running the world right now. So from a spiritual place, if we're not healing, we're dying. And I didn't know if Donna was going to heal or get a chance to. I saw it in Season 3, but as I said to you, I already knew that Season 4 was coming. I don't know the origin stories necessarily, but if we're not healing, what are we doing? And so I'm beyond grateful that Chris gave everybody a moment of grace—every single person's story! The end of Season 3, Carmen says that in his vision for the restaurant, 'to make it good, you have to filter out the bad.' And I think this whole season was in line with that mission statement. It's just gorgeous work. The grace note at the end—you know those sandwich shops are going to be successful. We know what the numbers are going to be. They're going to blow the place up. But Carmen also knows he has to step away from this and let these people do it. And the fact that that's the gift that he's giving everybody, and that he'll now go figure out who Carmen is. And he'll be able to do it with a mother in his life now. Yeah, and Donna is sober now. Can Donna stay sober? I hope so. I've stayed sober. What was wack to me—the same day that this season of the show dropped, I woke up in the morning and a friend of mine in Los Angeles sent me a picture of a billboard on Sunset Boulevard. It's the Foundation for a Better Life, a program they run called 'Pass It On.' Inspirational people and ideas. And there's a billboard with my picture that says, 'My Bravest Thing? Getting Sober. Recovery. Pass it On.' And for Jamie and Donna, who had different stories but the same disease, to have that happen simultaneously was kind of another grace note. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity
Cosmopolitan
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Cosmopolitan
'The Bear' Season 4 Ending, Explained
Watching The Bear over the past three seasons—following the highs and pitfalls of creating and running a restaurant—has been quite a ride. And its season 4 return has been one of the most highly-anticipated events in television this year. After all the hard work and sacrifice Carmy (Jeremy Allen White), Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Marcus (Lionel Boyce), Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), and their entire team have put into their restaurant, fans have been itching to find out whether their favorite chefs are finally getting their coveted Michelin star. But the fourth season has been more about survival rather than getting the prestigious award they've been gunning for. We see the team struggle to reach profitability, to work as efficiently as they possibly can, to find ways to grow, and to just generally keep their own sh*t together for the greater good of the restaurant. By the last few episodes, however, things seem to finally be looking up for everyone—especially Carmy, who's been a hot (very hot) mess since season 1. Which is why the show-altering 33-minute-long finale comes as a bit of a surprise to fans. Here's the ultimate breakdown of the last episode of The Bear season 4. If you were hoping for an action-packed finale, then you might be disappointed. Season 4 Episode 10, simply titled "Goodbye," is basically a big discussion and screaming match that takes place after dinner service. It opens with a miserable Syd, head against the fencing in the restaurant's backyard, clearly frustrated. Over the course of the whole season, she's been grappling to make a decision on whether to stay at The Bear, or leave to accept the generous offer from promising restaurateur Adam Shapiro. And in the last episode, just when she'd made peace with her decision to stay, she gets word from Pete (Chris Witaske) that Carmy has had the restaurant's partnership agreement written exclude him. Yes, you read that right. The star of the show, the head chef, has decided that he's calling it quits. And he's not just quitting the restaurant—he's quitting all restaurants. He tries to explain to a very upset Syd that he's come to an epiphany: he doesn't love cooking anymore. He even ventures to say that maybe he's never really been in love with it the way that she is. "I did this so I didn't have to do other things," he tells his business partner. In episodes past, people have been telling him he's been causing chaos, trying to chase and prove something that he didn't need to. It turns out, maybe he's been drumming up chaos to keep himself busy, to distract from confronting his problems in life. But now that he's actually out and trying to deal with his issues (i.e. talk to Claire (Molly Gordon), visit his mom (Jamie Lee Curtis), reenter society and human civilization), he no longer wants to use the kitchen as an escape. And he's decided that now that things are looking up for the restaurant, he wants to begin the process of moving on. But Carmy makes it clear that he'll help make sure they pay their debts and are profitable before he leaves. And though he admits that he'd known about Shapiro trying to poach her, he says didn't mind because she is a talented chef and deserves to cook wherever she wants to cook. Of course, given his decision to leave, he's glad she chose to stay. He tells Syd, "I believe in you more than I've ever believed in myself because you're The Bear." Syd and Carmy are in the middle of their screaming match in the yard when Richie joins them. Syd breaks the news to Richie, which he refuses to believe at first. But as Carmy tries to explain, he refuses to listen. Just as he's about to walk out, Carmy drops another big truth bomb, which is that he was actually at his brother Mikey's (Jon Bernthal) funeral. This really riles Richie up and coaxes him out of his false indifference. This is when the two "cousins" hash everything out. The tension between Carmy and Richie has only gotten progressively worse since the walk-in fridge incident in season 2. But in this final episode they both reveal that they've been harboring resentment towards each other that goes way further back than that. Carmy's always been jealous of Richie's closeness to his family, especially to his late brother. And Richie's been envious of Carmy's career and genius, and how much respect and admiration he's gained from far away. Carmy then tells Richie that there's no need to be jealous of him, especially because he says, "Outside of the kitchen, I don't know what I'm like." After the final steps of making sure The Bear can be up and running without him, he wants to leave to find himself. Both Sydney and Richie realize that Carmy has made up his mind regarding his decision, and see reason that this move might actually be good for everyone involved. Syd agrees to stay on as head chef and partner, but on one condition: Richie has to be a partner, too. So the legal agreement would include their investor Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) as one party, and the party of The Bear would include Sydney, Natalie a.k.a. Sugar (Abby Elliott), and Richie. At first, Richie thinks this is a joke or a token offer, but when Syd says she's serious he gives an enthusiastic, "F*ck yes." Sugar ends up joining them in the yard, and is the last to learn about Carmy's decision to leave. But instead of getting mad or reacting violently like Syd and Richie, she cries and comes over to hug her little brother. After all, it was she who—upon noticing how miserable Carmy was—told him (episodes ago) that it was okay if he wasn't in love with cooking anymore. She's proud that he's taking steps to prioritize his wellbeing over his career. While the finale does give us a resolution regarding who's going to be running the restaurant, we don't know what a potential fifth season's going to look like. Will Carmy (and actor Jeremy Allen White) be completely out of the picture? Are we following Carmy on his soul-searching journey? There are also a number of unresolved plot lines from this season. Chef Luca (Will Poulter) also came in as a stage to help Marcus, and the whole kitchen in general. It's unclear whether he'll be staying on full-time, or leaving to go back to Copenhagen or some other city to work as a chef. We also see Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) toiling away, crunching the numbers and doing research to figure out how to expand The Beef window so that they can maximize their profits, which could help the whole restaurant operation. He finally arrives at a solution, which would require opening two new locations and taking on a new partner. But he has yet to present this business proposal to the rest of the team (aside from the Faks). The last few seconds of the finale shows the clock—which indicates how much time is left before Uncle Jimmy would shut the place down (if they didn't get their numbers up)—run out of time. So time has run out, but their numbers are up. Still, it's not explicitly said that they've worked everything out and that they've done enough to keep going. The finale doesn't really get into this, but many fans do want to know what the deal is between Carmy and Claire Bear now. Well, if the wedding episode (Tiff's (Gillian Jacobs) wedding) was any indication, things seem to be looking good. Carmy's apologized for every which way he's hurt Claire, and has even said that he loves her—which he'd never previously told her. However, it doesn't seem like they're officially officially back together. Claire knows that Carmy's got a lot to figure out, and Carmy knows that Carmy's got a lot to figure out. So it doesn't seem like they're jumping into anything too quickly, but we don't really get a straightforward answer by the end of the season. It seems like to answer this question, and many more, we're all going to have to wait until season 5—which has yet to be confirmed.
Los Angeles Times
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
By taming its chaos, ‘The Bear' bravely shows us what addiction recovery looks like
In the beginning there was chaos. Three years ago, FX's 'The Bear' splattered across our screens and made it impossible to look away. The yelling; the cursing; the gravy-slopping, bowl-clattering, grease-slick, jerry-rigged anxious sweaty mess of the Chicago sandwich shop the Beef and the wildly dysfunctional group of people who worked there, including elite chef Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White), who inherited the Beef from his dead-by-suicide beloved brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal), wowed critics and raised the culture's collective cortisol count to eye-twitching levels. Critics used terms like 'stress bomb' and 'adrenaline shot'; current and former restaurant workers described symptoms not unlike those of PTSD, and viewers ate it all up with a spoon. Season 2, in which Carmy follows through on his plan to turn the Beef into a fine-dining establishment, only increased the anxiety level. With real money on the table (courtesy of Carmy's uncle Jimmy, played by Oliver Platt), along with the hopes, dreams and professional futures of the staff, including Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), Marcus (Lionel Boyce), Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), Sugar (Abby Elliott) and, of course, Cousin Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), stakes were cranked to do-or-die. When the episode 'Fishes,' a stomach-clenching holiday buffet of trauma, revealed the twisted roots of a family forged by alcoholism — Carmy's mother Donna (Jamie Lee Curtis) — and abandonment — Carmy's father — viewers could not get enough. This being television, we knew that all the wild dysfunction would inevitably coalesce into triumph — you cannot achieve greatness without driving yourself and everyone else crazy first, right? When, at the end of Season 2, the Bear somehow managed to have a successful opening night, despite Carmy locking himself in a refrigerator and having a full-on existential crisis, our deep attachment to 'yes chef' pandemonium appeared vindicated. Fistfuls of Emmys and dopamine cocktails all around. Except being able to open is a rather low bar for success, even in the restaurant business. Carmy is, for all his talent, an utter mess, and creator Christopher Storer is not, as it turns out, interested in celebrating the time-honored, and frankly toxic, notion that madness is a necessary part of genius — to the apparent dismay of many viewers. When, in Season 3, Storer and his writers opted to slow things down a bit, to pull each character aside and unsnarl the welter of emotions that fueled the Bear's kitchen, some viewers were disappointed. Which, having become dependent on the show's stress-bomb energy, they expressed with outrage. 'The Bear' had lost its edge, was getting dull, boring, repetitive and reliant on stunt-casting; it should have ended with Season 2 or, better yet, become a movie. Thus far, the reaction to Season 4 has run the gamut — where some condemn what they consider continuing stagnation, others cheer a return to form. Which is kind of hilarious as this opens with the staff of the Bear reeling from an equally mixed review of the restaurant from the Chicago Tribune. (Shout out to the notion that a newspaper review still has make-or-break influence, though the Bear's lack of a social media awareness has long been worrisome). Turns out that Carmy's obsessive determination to change the menu daily, and keep his staff on perpetual tenterhooks, was perceived as disruptive, but not in a good way. 'They didn't like the vibe,' he tells Syd in a morning-after debrief. 'They didn't like the chaos,' she replies. 'You think I like chaos?' he asks. 'I think you think you need it to be talented,' she says, adding, 'You would be just as good, you would be great … without this need for, like, mess.' Coming early in Episode 1, Syd's message is a bit on the nose, but addiction does not respond to subtlety, and 'The Bear' is, as I have written before, all about the perils and long-range damage of addiction. That includes Donna's to alcohol, Mikey's to painkillers, Carmy's to a self-flagellating notion of perfection and, perhaps, the modern TV audience's to cortisol. As Season 4 plays out, with its emphasis on introspection and real connection, viewers might consider why 'addictive' has become the highest form of compliment in television. It's such a sneaky bastard, addiction, happy to hijack your brain chemistry in any way it can. Our collective attention span isn't what it used to be and the adrenaline rush unleashed by crisis, real or observed, can create a desire to keep replicating it. Even on broadcast and cable television, most dysfunctional family series take a one-step-forward-two-steps-back approach to their characters' emotional growth. The mess is what viewers come for, after all. Particularly in comedy, we want to see our characters get into jams for the pleasure of watching them wildly flail about trying to get out of them. Early seasons of 'The Bear' took that desire to a whole new level. But having amped up the craziness and the stakes, Storer now appears to be more interested in exploring why so many people believe that an ever-roiling crucible is necessary to achieve greatness. And he is willing to dismantle some of the very things that made his show a big hit to do it. Frankly, that's as edgy as it gets, especially in streaming, which increasingly uses episodic cliffhangers to speed up a series' completion rate — nothing fuels a binge watch like a jacked up heart rate. Like Carmy, Storer doesn't appear content with resting on his laurels; he's willing to take counterintuitive risks. As an attempt to actually show both the necessity and difficulty of recovery, in a micro- and meta- sense, 'The Bear' is an experiment that defies comparison. At the beginning of this season, Uncle Jimmy puts a literal clock on how long the Bear has before, short of a miracle, he will have to pull the plug. Carmy, still addicted to drama, claims they will still get a Michelin star, despite evidence to the contrary, which will solve everything. (Spoiler: A gun introduced in the first act must go off in the third is one of many tropes 'The Bear' upends.) The rest of the staff, mercifully, takes a more pragmatic approach. Richie, having become the unexpected sensei of the Bear (and the show), does the most sensible thing — he asks for help from the crackerjack staff of chef Terry's (Olivia Colman) now defunct Ever. Watching chef Jessica (Sarah Ramos) whip the nightly schedule into shape only underlines the absurdity, and damage, of the auteur theory of anything — greatness is never a solitary achievement. As Carmy loosens his grip, other outsiders pitch in — Luca (Will Poulter) shows up from Copenhagen to help Marcus and also winds up aiding Tina; Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) drafts an actual mentor (played by Rob Reiner) to help him figure out how he can grow the Beef sandwich window and Sweeps (Corey Hendrix) finds his own in another sommelier (played by retired master Alpana Singh). Carmy, thank God, not only returns to Al Anon, but he finally visits his mother, which allows a now-sober Donna (in another potentially Emmy-winning performance by Curtis) to admit the harm she has done and try to make amends. It is, inarguably, a very different show than the one that debuted three years ago, with far fewer cacophonous kitchen scenes, and many more Chicago-appreciating exteriors. When the long-awaited wedding of Richie's ex, Tiffany (Gillian Jacobs), reunites many of the characters from the famous 'Fishes' episode, fears about a gathering of Berzattos and Faks prove unfounded. Despite a high-pitched and hilarious spat between Sugar and her ex-bestie Francie Fak (Brie Larson), the event is, instead, a celebration of love and reconciliation and includes what passes for a group therapy session under the table where Richie's daughter Eva (Annabelle Toomey) has hidden herself. (This scene, which involved all the main characters, was more than a little undermined by said table's TARDIS-like ability to be 'bigger on the inside' and the fact that it held the wedding cake, which did not fall as they all exited, is proof that 'The Bear' is not a comedy.) Not even the digital countdown could generate the sizzling, clanking, sniping roar of chronic, organic anxiety that fueled the first two seasons. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it — I love my adrenaline rush as much as the next person. But that's the whole point. Real change doesn't occur with the speed or the electricity of a lightning bolt; as many addicts discover, it's about progress, not perfection. Recovery takes time and often feels weird — if you want to have a different sort of life, you need to do things differently. That's tough on a hit TV show, as the reactions to Season 3 proved (we'll see how it fares when Emmy nominations are announced in a few weeks). Few series have made as large a shift in tone and tempo as 'The Bear,' but its intentions are clear. To illuminate the necessity, and difficulty, of breaking an addiction to anything, including, chaos, you can't rely on talk; you life to be different, you have to do things differently.
Los Angeles Times
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
The true story behind ‘Smoke,' plus ‘Odd Mom Out' and ‘Pavements' for your weekend streaming
Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who can't stand the heat outside, but can tolerate it onscreen. The eerie and bizarre story of John Orr, a Southern California arson investigator who authorities say moonlighted as a serial arsonist suspected of setting some 2,000 fires in the 1980s and 1990s, has been chronicled in the 2021 podcast 'Firebug' and, earlier this year, received the deep-dive treatment from L.A. Times writer Christopher Goffard. Now, there's a new Apple TV+ series, 'Smoke,' loosely inspired by the true crime case. Author and screenwriter Dennis Lehane, who created the new drama, stopped by Guest Spot to discuss it. Also in this week's Screen Gab, TV critic Robert Lloyd reminds us that Bravo used to dabble in scripted programming, recommending 'Odd Mom Out,' the short-lived comedy about a stay-at-home mother and her experiences navigating the bizarre and outrageous world of Manhattan's elite; and film reporter Josh Rottenberg suggests finding time to watch a hybrid documentary-biopic film about the '90s indie band Pavement. Must-read stories you might have missed The movie business isn't going to collapse. Jerry Bruckheimer explains why: Thirty-five years after 'Days of Thunder,' the hard-charging 'F1' producer is not slowing down: Bruckheimer talks fast cars, big-budget spectacle and the state of Hollywood. 'My Mom Jayne' led Mariska Hargitay to see her mother 'like a superhero': The 'Law & Order: Special Victims Unit' actor created an emotional and revealing documentary about her mother, Jayne Mansfield, who died when Hargitay was just 3 years old. 'The Bear': Apologies and reconciliations lift the mood in Season 4: The latest season of 'The Bear' shows Carmy and the crew reacting to various obstacles, including a negative restaurant review, but everyone's on the road to happiness. 'Countdown' makes Los Angeles a prominent character — and it's in danger: The Prime Video action series follows a task force consisting of members from various law enforcement agencies that are brought together after the murder of a Department of Homeland Security agent. But it's Los Angeles that is in serious danger. Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times 'Odd Mom Out' (Peacock) In my review of the new season of 'The Bear' this week, I neglected to mention Abby Elliott, who plays Sugar, the level-headed sister of Jeremy Allen White's Carmy (or to mention Sugar's new baby, the most adorable infant I have ever seen on screen); ironically, it was because, laboring to express how great she is in it, I had set that bit aside — as it turned out, permanently. Happily, I was already planning to use this space to recommend her earlier series, Jill Kargman's very funny 'Odd Mom Out,' Bravo's brief experiment (2015-17) in scripted comedy, giving me this chance to self-correct. In 'Mom,' whose three seasons stream on Peacock, Kargman, a very talented amateur, stars as a version of herself in a series based on her 2007 book 'Momzillas,' about competitive parenting among Upper East Side New Yorkers, a war her boho-punk mother of three character declines to enter. (She is what most of us would call rich, but not obscenely so, and has good values.) Elliott, in a whimsical comic turn, plays Brooke, the pregnant and thin wife (later ex-wife) of her brother-in-law, whose charities include providing 'prophylactic gastric bypasses for at-risk kids with morbidly obese parents' and sending bouncy castles to Africa. — Robert Lloyd 'Pavements' (available on various VOD platforms) If you were young and vaguely disaffected in the '90s, Pavement was either your favorite band or the band your favorite band wanted to be — a group whose slanted (and enchanted) songs defined slacker cool, mixing lo-fi chaos, shaggy pop hooks and a shrugging disinterest in 'career, career, career,' as they put it in their semi-hit 'Cut Your Hair.' So it's only fitting that Alex Ross Perry's drolly funny anti-rock-doc ditches the usual mythology-building formula in favor of something far weirder. Blending real tour footage, a faux biopic, a tongue-in-cheek jukebox musical and a museum filled with half-fake relics, the film is part tribute, part Gen X time capsule, part absurdist prank. 'Stranger Things' star Joe Keery is the film's unexpected MVP, playing himself with deadpan commitment as he fixates on nailing lead singer Stephen Malkmus' Stockton accent — right down to requesting a photo of his tongue for research. By the end, 'Pavements' becomes both a joke about the band's legacy and a surprisingly sincere celebration of it. — Josh Rottenberg A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they're working on — and what they're watching He spent his days as a fire captain and arson investigator in Southern California, but authorities say John Orr lived a secret life as a prolific arsonist responsible for a string of fires that terrorized the region in the '80s and '90s. An unpublished novel he wrote, 'Points of Origin,' detailed an arson spree that mirrored real-life incidents and helped authorities secure enough evidence to arrest him. The firefighting veteran was eventually convicted on 20 counts of arson and 4 counts of murder and is serving life in prison. Orr continues to maintain his innocence. This true story, chronicled in the 2021 podcast 'Firebug,' is the basis for Apple TV+'s new nine-episode crime drama 'Smoke.' Created by Dennis Lehane ('Black Bird'), the series follows arson investigator Dave Gudsen (Taron Egerton) and Detective Michelle Calderone (Jurnee Smollett) as they pursue two serial arsonists. The first two episodes are available to stream, with the remaining seven releasing weekly every Friday until Aug. 15. Lehane stopped by Guest Spot to discuss the show's gnarly fire sequences and getting Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke to provide the show's theme song. — Yvonne Villarreal You've authored several well-known novels, including 'Gone, Baby, Gone,' 'Mystic River' and 'Shutter Island,' and you're familiar with exploring moral ambiguity. What stood out to you when you first listened to 'Firebug'? And what about it made it a story you wanted to tell for the screen? What really stood out for me with 'Firebug' was John Orr's myopic duality. He clung to the identity of a hero arson investigator even as he was running around lighting up Glendale and surrounding areas, resulting in several deaths. On top of that, he was writing a book about an arson investigator chasing a serial arsonist. And the book was quite bad. I found that kinda delicious. I was also intrigued by his methods for setting the fires and was taken by the fact that he'd once nearly died in a fire when he mistook his reflection for another firefighter and ran deeper into a burning house. Everything else in the show is pure fiction. I didn't want to tell a story about John Orr in 1980s California; I wanted to tell a story about our culture now, about people who feel so unmoored they'd rather cling to the fiction of themselves over the fact. Tell me about the planning and work that went into crafting the fire sequences in the series — how you decided when to use special effects or real fire, and the precautions that needed to be in place for the latter. And is there a fire sequence in the series that stands out for you? The moments that stand out most are the first fire — Dave's dream — and the last — the sawmill fire. The first of these was 100% real. It was shot on a burn stage with pipes blasting flame all around the room as Taron — not a stunt man — walked through it. It looks so impressive because a) we planned really hard; and b) Sam McCurdy, our director of photography, is a painter with light and reflection. Our sawmill fire and the subsequent car ride thru the burning forest was the opposite — it was predominantly CGI, but we'd realized by then that the key was to shoot as much real fire as we could (which, in this case, wasn't terribly much), so the CGI wizards had real flame to compare their work to. How did you get Thom Yorke to write a song ('Dialing In') for the show's theme? Our music supervisor, Mary Ramos, had heard that Thom was a fan of 'Black Bird' [Lehane's previous Apple TV+ series that also starred Egerton and featured much of the same creative team]. We reached out to see if he had any interest in writing a song for our credit sequence. And he actually called us back. He and I spoke about the underlying themes of the show and he read a bunch of the scripts. Then he went off and wrote the song. He sent it back to us and someone, I think it was Mary, said, 'Now you have to give him notes.' And I was like, Um … no, no, I don't. He's Thom Yorke. Giving him notes on music would be like telling Scorsese where to put the camera. I passed along this note:'Thank you.' What have you watched recently that you're recommending to everyone you know? (Please explain) 'Dept. Q' [Netflix]. Scott Frank, as always, crushes it as both a writer and a director. It's got one of the best pilots I've ever seen, and the cast, led by Matthew Goode and Kate Dickie, is impeccable. It's so rich in character and atmosphere that I wanted to fly to Edinburgh to simply hang out with every character after I finished watching. What's your go-to comfort watch, the film or TV show you return to again and again? (Please explain) 'Midnight Run' [Netflix] is my cinematic chicken soup for the soul. It's smart, hilarious, infinitely quotable, sports one of the greatest casts ever assembled, and it's non-stop, breakneck fun from the first shot to the last. I've probably seen it 30 times.
