The show’s true impact, though, lies in its ability to resonate with a diverse audience, captivating both industry professionals and casual viewers.(X/@TheBearFX)
The Bear first lumbered onto our screens two years into the pandemic, when the hospitality industry, in particular, was still recovering from the harsh blows of the years past — global lockdowns, travel restrictions and social distancing. These had, it seemed at the time, rung the death knell for restaurants as we’d known them. It was at this unlikely moment that the show captivated audiences across the globe, with an immensely lovable albeit dysfunctional kitchen crew.
The first two seasons of the show balanced aesthetic flourishes with a grounded reality. Season one introduced us to the award-winning chef, Carmy (Jeremy Allen White), who, reeling from his brother’s suicide, returned to Chicago to salvage and revitalise the family’s struggling sandwich shop, “The Beef”. Season two had writers of the series explore under-utilised story arcs, chronicling the chaotic metamorphosis of “The Beef” into “The Bear” and the money and might it takes to bring a restaurant into being, and then, to keep it afloat. The latest season has arrived on streaming platforms — on Disney+ Hotstar in India — with the show clocking 5.4 million views within its first four days on streaming platforms as reported by Disney.
What The Bear truly excels in is its exploration and portrayal of the spectrum of experiences within the high-pressure environment of professional kitchens: The elation of triumphs juxtaposed with the sting of defeat, the flashes of creativity amidst rigid hierarchies, the deep admiration for chefs interwoven with the perils of hero worship.
The show resonates deeply, particularly in a cultural climate where the harsh realities of restaurant work are finally coming to light. We’re witnessing a shift where celebrated restaurants face scrutiny for their treatment of staff, a phenomenon that almost feels like a pendulum swing from the days of media glorification. But haven’t these issues always simmered beneath the surface — the toxicity, the abusive chefs, the punishing hours, the gruelling conditions? And isn’t Carmy, in a way, yet another iteration of the tortured prodigy trope, a white male saviour we’ve seen countless times before? Are we perhaps mistaking The Bear for groundbreaking television when it might simply be glamourising the very problems it portrays?
Having embarked on my own journey towards opening an F&B venture, I’m acutely aware of the human cost hidden behind every exquisitely-plated dish. Fine dining exemplifies this hidden suffering even more. Even in the most positive environments, there’s the line cook toiling under relentless heat, the potwasher nearing exhaustion after hours on their feet, the server masking their struggles with a practiced smile, and the chef missing their child’s milestones. In the worst cases, the scars run far deeper than the burns and cuts of a demanding kitchen.
This isn’t a call to dismantle the world of fine dining. Great, ambitious restaurants serve a purpose, offering an alternative to the soulless convenience of fast food establishments and delivery apps. There might exist, however, a better way, a model that prioritises the well-being of the staff alongside the artistry on the plate. The Bear hints at Carmy’s evolution into a different kind of leader, one who has learned from his past and seeks to create a more positive work environment. However, the show’s inclusion of celebrities with chequered pasts casts a shadow on this message. Accusations of a harsh environment plague Thomas Keller’s Per Se restaurant, and chef Kwame Onwuachi’s 2019 memoir, Notes from a Young Black Chef, details racism and the anger he faced while working there. Rene Redzepi, once known for abusive behaviour at Noma, has acknowledged seeking therapy to address it.
The show’s true impact, though, lies in its ability to resonate with a diverse audience, captivating both industry professionals and casual viewers. Even those unfamiliar with the vocabulary and ecosystems of the kitchen find themselves engrossed in the story. Beyond the industry slang and celebrity cameos, The Bear captures a universal truth: The bittersweet struggle of pouring yourself into something that is both immensely demanding and often unrewarding. Carmy’s journey of rebuilding his life after loss mirrors the experiences of many of us, as we navigate the challenges of failure, grief, and the process of picking ourselves back up, a little wiser, a little tougher, maybe even with a new scar or two — a testament to the battles fought and the lessons learned. So next time you belly up to a bar or settle into a restaurant, take a moment to appreciate the unseen cacophony taking place behind the scenes. Maybe then, the next bite you take will taste not just delicious, but a little human too.
The writer is co-founder Indica, centre for gastronomy
© The Indian Express Pvt Ltd
First uploaded on: 15-07-2024 at 12:25 IST
