The MontyVerse

Service has ended at The Bear, but before you file it away as television’s great kitchen show, consider that it was never really a kitchen show at all. Watch all five seasons back and you will see it: The Bear is the five stages of grief, one stage per season. Season 1 is denial, as Carmy tries to fix his dead brother’s money pit instead of his dead brother’s absence. Season 2 is anger, boiling over in a walk-in freezer. Season 3 is bargaining, this time for a Michelin star. Season 4 is depression, a day that repeats itself until Carmy finally admits that cooking never made him happy, only important. And now, in eight final episodes that play like one held breath, we get acceptance.

After four years and five seasons, the finale serves one last eight-course meal full of all the anxiety, masterful filmmaking, and powerful performances we have come to expect from this beloved series. A show about a family-owned Italian beef shop grew into a symbol of Chicago’s culinary scene, celebrating the city and its food while also being a beautiful exploration of mental health struggles. The trick, though, is that it was never about the food; it was about the people. It tells you as much in the season 3 finale, when Olivia Colman’s Chef Terry says, “People don’t remember the food. They remember the people.” That is the show’s mission statement, because while the series earns its praise for the portrayal of restaurant life, the reason we keep coming back is that we feel like part of the family. We fell in love with these characters, and the final season is one last pressure cooker that pushes each of them to their limits while paying tribute to their journeys. We are there for the ride because we are family. We are The Bear…well, actually, Sydney’s The Bear, but you get it.

Season 5 is all about rebirth and new beginnings, a theme that is beautifully established in the very first scene. We open on Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) attempting to perfect a Brussels sprout dish at home in the wee hours of the morning. A vicious downpour crashes against her windows as she plates a beautiful green dish in the warm green kitchen of her apartment. Her husband (David Zayas) comes in, and they talk about The Bear and what Tina would do if the restaurant closes. The scene is a masterclass in visual storytelling and setup. The green of the food and the apartment symbolize renewal, and the rain carries the same symbolism in sound. The dish Tina is working on is a full-circle callback to her growth as a chef across the series, and it doubles as foreshadowing for later. Even the fact that we open on Tina matters: we have watched her undergo a complete metamorphosis over the course of the show, and her journey, unlike some other characters’, feels complete. If the show has dedicated this much thought to its first scene, you know you are in for a season of truly special television.

Season 5 picks up the day after the season 4 finale, which saw Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) tell his partner Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) and “cousin” Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) about his decision to step away from cooking. It also happens to be the day after the restaurant’s two-month safety net has run out, meaning The Bear must now self-sustain or shut down entirely. The season 4 finale set the stage for a tense season 5, but in a lot of ways it was also the end of the show as we knew it. These eight episodes take place mainly over the course of one hellish day, as the crew faces one last service that forces them to overcome a plethora of challenges while showing just how far they have come as chefs and, more importantly, how much they have grown as people.

Christopher Storer and the entire team behind The Bear, cast and crew, have joined together in what feels like a magical collaborative effort to deliver a season of television that is bold, unique, and immensely satisfying. The theme of rebirth is felt through every department, from sound design to editing to cinematography to practical effects, all dedicated to a single vision that remains uniform across every episode. Every department deserves equal praise because, like the employees of The Bear, this feels like a family coming together to put forth a masterful effort just to prove that they can.

Watching season 5 felt like watching a new show, and a lot of that comes from the visual language of this crop of episodes. Director of Photography Andrew Wehde completely changes the cinematography this year, starting with the series’ aspect ratio. That opening Tina scene is filmed in the show’s traditional aspect ratio before the season shifts into CinemaScope, a calm before the storm that gives us a moment to breathe before the ratio change signals the start of the action. This season is just more cinematic visually, and that is very intentional. Wehde uses anamorphic lenses not only to make the season play like an eight-episode movie but also to pay homage to the late, great Tony Scott. The season is a love letter to his body of work, full of references to his frenetic cinematography and aggressive editing, used here to capture the pace and chaotic movement of the day.

The cinematography is also a narrative tool signaling that this is a brand-new version of The Bear. One thing this show has always done that I love is create a unique visual language for each major restaurant in the series: The Beef was rock-and-roll chaos, Empire was militant, fear-based control, Ever was elegance and grace, and The Bear was elevated chaos. The look of the restaurant is wholly new this time around because it is a new restaurant under the leadership of Sydney, as we see when she navigates this chaotic dinner service her way. The flood, and Sydney making the clock that hit zero start counting back up, hammering home the same point: rebirth.

The editing team on this series has always been impressive, and the final season is no exception. The Bear is one of those shows that proves just how important editors are to filmmaking; go back through the series and you can see their fingerprints all over its best episodes. Here they are tasked with keeping a lightning-fast pace while still servicing the performances of an incredible ensemble, and I think they succeed across the board. The cutting also continues the Tony Scott homage; Scott was essentially the father of modern action editing.

With the stakes this high, in a show that progressively added more and more ingredients to itself, this season embodies the idea of subtraction. It feels very much like a return to season 1, an elevated version of it, in everything from the episode count to how much of the time is spent inside the restaurant. Where previous years had the pleasure of surprising guest stars, this season turns inward and focuses on the core ensemble that built the series. It is a family affair centered on Carmy, Sydney, and legacy.

The Bear would be nothing without its people, and season 5 beautifully balances its ensemble to deliver a satisfying conclusion for each member of the family. Over the course of this chaotic dinner service, we watch each member of the team struggle, overcome, and shine, showing the evolution of their characters across eight episodes. While everyone gets a moment to prove their worth, the series locks in on its three leads to drive home the themes of legacy and family that have echoed through the series for years.

Sydney, Richie, and Carmy are each forced to step into new roles this season, and watching these insanely talented actors bring their stories home was rewarding to watch. I invested years in these characters, and to see them doubt, stumble, and rise in what felt like an eight-episode televised stage play was exhilarating. While the three stars each have their own arc, they also share moments that show the evolution of their relationships since season 1. Carmy and Syd have some intense, impactful exchanges, but it’s really Richie’s interactions with the two of them that feel the most rewarding, especially when you remember how combative he was with both early on.

I firmly believe Richard “Richie” Jerimovich will go down as one of the most beloved character transformations of the streaming era, thanks to the combination of this series’ long-term storytelling and an amazing performance by the wildly talented Ebon Moss-Bachrach. We have seen this character serve as a primary antagonist, fighting the winds of change, before evolving into a man seeking purpose, afraid that change will force everyone to realize he is obsolete and leave him behind. To see a Richie who is locked in, focused, and driven to succeed at all costs lit a fire in my soul. Moss-Bachrach’s layered performance showcases the fear of failure, the loneliness, and the supernatural charisma we know so well while still finding new sides of the character. An impressive feat five seasons in.

Ayo Edebiri, on the other hand, must cover new ground from the jump, as Sydney feels like she is constantly evolving throughout the season. She is like a Pokémon we are watching reach its final stage in real time. Sydney’s arc fits my thesis that The Bear as we knew it ended in season 4 and that season 5 is a new version of “The Bear,” the restaurant as well as the show. This season really feels like Sydney is the main character of the series now, as we watch her take the lead among the staff and attempt to solve every problem that arises on this hellish day. It was amazing to see Sydney problem-solve while interacting with every single member of the crew, from the dishwashers to the front of house. The show has long told us she was capable of taking charge; the only person who wasn’t sure yet was Sydney herself.

Edebiri is a massive talent this series helped propel into the spotlight, and this season that talent is fully utilized as we find Sydney in a state of flux. She is trying to remain calm, cool, and collected as the new captain of The Bear while dealing with her own self-confidence issues. We watch her try to hold the ship together with all the tools she has, some of them not great because they were handed down by Carmy. She learns to take the good, shed the bad, and adopt a new modus operandi at The Bear, one free of the trauma of its past. Watching that play out through a performance from one of our great young talents was inspiring.

Speaking of trauma, that brings us to Carmy, everyone’s favorite floppy-haired, emotionally damaged chef who just decided to retire from cooking. Setting season 5 one day after the season 4 finale paints such an interesting picture, because while everyone is on an emotional journey, Carmy feels like the only one at peace…and that’s terrifying. This is a different Carmy from the start. When the character is reintroduced in the premiere, it is 11 minutes and 32 seconds into the episode, almost halfway in, and there is an odd sense of peace about him. It’s almost as if Jeremy Allen White is playing a different character entirely this season, in the most complimentary way possible. Season 4 culminated with the final step in Carmy’s road to healing; season 5 is about fixing the cracks he left in The Bear.

In case that wasn’t clear from Allen White’s performance, the show spoon-feeds you the point in his first interaction of the season with Syd: she is physically covering the cracks in the expo station while he supports her decision. That one scene foreshadows their arc for the entire season. I was really captivated by Carmy this year, as he spends much of it in the background or off to the side, letting Syd take charge or simply doing the work, trying to be helpful. It is a softer side of the character; he still instinctively jumps to take the lead a few times, but he catches himself. It is a fantastically nuanced performance that showcases the healing of the youngest Berzatto sibling and how hard he has worked to overcome the trauma of his past, the guilt of not being there for his brother, and the struggle to connect with people.

The toxicity of the Berzatto family has always been an inability to communicate. It’s the reason Mikey and Carmy couldn’t just tell each other how much they meant to each other. It’s the reason Mikey pushed Carmy away from The Beef, and it’s the reason Carmy became a chef in the first place. Carmy pursued cooking out of spite: he felt his brother never wanted him in the kitchen, so he set out to be the best chef in the world until his talent was undeniable. Along the way he absorbed the most toxic traits of the culinary grind, pouring everything into the work with zero time for connection or social growth.

He brought all that baggage home to Chicago, and the series has really been about Carmy realizing that, despite his best intentions, he is the problem. With that in mind, season 5 is the final exclamation point on the importance of healing, as we meet a Carmy who is at peace, relaxed, and, dare I say, jovial. I love the work Jeremy Allen White does here. He creates new layers for the character while staying subdued enough to let the rest of the team shine. He gets his major moments, but most of the season is about him allowing Sydney to move beyond him, as all great teachers must.

While the main story beats belong to the leads, The Bear is an ensemble, and this season comes full circle, shifting focus back to the cast that made the series a success in season 1. The show honors this in episode 7, the best of the bunch and quite possibly the best episode of the series. Episode 7 matters in every season of The Bear; it usually marks a major turning point that shifts the season’s narrative direction. What is so beautiful about this one is that it is a culmination not only of the season’s main conflict and the hellish final service, but of every character’s journey across the series.

“Caramel” follows the crew on one final push through the most chaotic service the restaurant has ever seen. Pressure hits an all-time high: the fabled “Star Man” is due to arrive for the final seating, diners are slow to leave, and ticket-to-table times need to be ten minutes or the whole thing goes to shit. The team adopts an assembly-line method in the kitchen, all hands on deck for one final push, as Donna arrives to make things even less chill. What we get is a beautiful reflection of the infamous season 1 episode 7, “Review.”

“Review” may be the episode that put The Bear on the map: an anxiety-inducing oner in which Carmy is hit with a mass influx of orders and absolutely collapses under the pressure of failure, all the systems and successes he spent the season building crumbling before our eyes under the weight of his rage. “Caramel” is the complete inverse. The team is met with equally impossible odds and leans on each other to rise above them instead of letting it all collapse on Carmy’s shoulders. It’s all there in the moment Carmy drops the tonnato dish meant for the Star Man and begins to break down. Syd and Richie immediately start problem-solving and hit him with the simple, beautiful “we got you.” Three words that carry the weight of five years.

The episode also pays tribute to every member of The Bear, front of house to back, as we watch them all operate at their highest level after years of growth and training. We witness the fruits of their labor, and it is magical. The menu for the final service is meticulously planned, each dish symbolizing the culmination of a character’s journey. Tina’s “family meal” reflects her growth as a chef under Sydney’s tutelage while paying homage to everything she learned making the farmer’s-market runs. Carmy’s tonnato represents repairing his relationship with his mother and letting cooking be healing again. Marcus’ candle dessert showcases his talent, creativity, and thirst to grow. And then there is Sydney’s cola-braised short rib, which is self-explanatory for fans of the show: a season 1 callback proving she was always good enough to stand at Carmy’s level.

Where episode 7 of season 1 left us checking our blood pressure, episode 7 of season 5 leaves us feeling triumphant. When the crew heads out back to celebrate the end of service, it feels like we are part of the celebration: a euphoric sense of completion and an emotional catharsis five years in the making. That is because The Bear’s success lies in making us feel like part of the family. We are all The Bear.

The show even plays with that fact, turning very self-referential in season 5 and poking fun at its place in the cultural zeitgeist, whether it is an overzealous foodie shouting “YES, CHEF!” who serves as an audience surrogate in the kitchen, or Donna calling everyone “chef” because “everyone does it.” That playfulness adds levity to a season that is intense but still lighter than most.

All of it circles back to where we started. When we first met Carmy, he was fresh off the death of his older brother, Mikey, and the show has walked him through denial, anger, bargaining, and depression one year at a time. In a series about trauma, season 5 is about healing, and grief has finally run its course. This is acceptance, and the show wears it in every frame.

After last season’s soul-searching, Carmy knows what he must do: exorcise the demons of the Berzatto family. He realizes he is not, and never was, “the guy” who would make this place something special. He is finally past the death of his brother, and the show tells us so by giving us only the tiniest glimpse of Mikey all season. His memory no longer haunts the narrative, or Carmy’s soul. Some will remember this show for its accurate portrayal of culinary life, its depiction of Chicago, or simply as the “yes, chef!” show. I will remember The Bear as a series that used the beauty of culinary excellence to confront the darkness of mental health, and more specifically men’s mental health, and how so many men are afraid to get the help they need or never learn the depths of their own trauma.

Beyond the trauma, though, it is a show about growth, healing, and family. We love The Bear because we love these characters. At the end of the day, people may remember Chef Sydney’s omelette or the Italian beef sandwiches, but we will never forget Syd, Carmy, Richie, Tina, Marcus, and the rest. To bring it home, one more time, the wise words of Chef Terry: “People don’t remember the food. They remember the people.”