Photo: Chuck Hodes/FX
When The Bear first premiered last summer, it was the little show that could. It had a small amount of critical buzz thanks to sites like this one, but there wasn’t a ton of hype in the run-up to its premiere. That all changed in the weeks and months that followed the show’s release, as word of mouth about the show grew exponentially and The Bear became pretty much the only topic of conversation at every BBQ, meeting, and playground meetup.
That was good news for The Bear, which FX didn’t actually renew for a second season until the first one finished airing, but it also had to be a little terrifying for its creators. Expectations and hype can feel a bit like a guillotine’s looming blade, with modern audiences itching for some slight misstep — an episode that’s just okay, even — to declare that something they once loved has lost its luster. (Just ask Ted Lasso.) How, as a creator, do you capture lighting in a bottle more than once? And can you keep something fresh and new on a second go-around?
The Bear’s second-season premiere certainly makes it seem possible. Picking up seemingly days after the first season’s end, “Beef” finds the Original Berf Beef crew breaking down the old restaurant in an effort to move toward Carmy’s new high-end vision. As Bruce Hornsby’s “The Show Goes On” plays, the sign comes off the restaurant’s exterior as signed pics of Harold Ramis, Anthony Bourdain, and secret season-one guest Paul Rudd are removed from the interior. There’s quibbling over how much the whole remodel is going to cost — $80k? $95k? $108k, with the drywall quote from Richie’s brother-in-law? — and it’s clear that, even with Sugar’s help as a potential project manager, the group is in deep shit. They might have the $300,000 Mikey squirreled away from Uncle Jimmy, but cutting through Chicago’s red tape and permits will require a deft hand and a lot of patience, and hiring someone other than Fak to tackle issues like gas-line repairs won’t come cheap. Add to that some weird IRS stipulation Sugar finds that says “debts have to be complete before any new business is started,” and the gang’s financial situation is looking tenuous at best.
While the group is figuring all this out, Richie is down in the basement moping. He’s been trying to sort out his life’s purpose, explaining to Carmy that he’s reading a book about a guy who gets dropped by his longtime friends because all he really likes to do is watch trains. The protagonist’s friends — an athlete, a genius, someone who’s “nasty on the keys,” and someone who has “charisma like a motherfucker” — drop him because he has no purpose. Richie doesn’t know what comes after, because he hasn’t read that far, but he tells Carmy that he can relate. He’s 45 and has been at the Beef for a long time, but how does that translate to Carmy’s new vision — and should it? “I’m afraid one day I’m going to wake up and you guys are just going to drop this ass,” he tells Carmy, who kindly responds, “Richie, I’m not going to drop this ass.” There’s some discussion after about how working at the Beef isn’t actually fun for either of them, to which Richie responds, “Cousin, what the fuck is fun for you?” A good question, Richie!
Speaking of fun, Sydney and Tina are talking pots and pans, with Tina requesting — rightfully — new pans for their fancy new establishment. It’s hard to make fine-dining fare when every pan looks like a greasy nightmare (shout-out to the props department for creating all that yuck), but Sydney extols the virtues of Bar Keepers Friend, which every restaurant loves and every person should really own because it’s amazing. Later we learn that the miracle dust did actually get at least some of the pans clean, so huzzah!
Somehow amid all of this financial ruin, the group decides to bring in Oliver Platt’s sketchy Uncle Jimmy, whom they ask to back their new venture. They come clean about Mikey’s money cans, which Jimmy doesn’t seem too broken up about, and ask him for an additional $500,000. He doesn’t seem all that into the idea until Carmy spontaneously offers to pay him off completely in 18 months, saying that if he’s not whole by then, they’ll close the restaurant and give him both the building and the lot, which he can sell or use as he pleases. There’s some debate as to how much he’d actually get if he sold the whole thing, but given that condos in the area of the real Mr. Beef building go for between $300,000–$450,000, let’s assume it would be substantial. He bites, and the Beef gang is now even more entrenched with the semi-sketchy Cicero. (Couldn’t they have asked a bank, you ask? What about a notable and legitimate Chicago restaurant group, like Boka, 16 On Center, or One Off Hospitality? Well, sure, but what fun would that be? This is a TV show, after all.)
Carmy, Sugar, and Sydney estimate that it’ll take at least eight months for the restaurant to make a profit, meaning the agreement Carmy made is basically unwinnable. They’ll have to be packed from the get-go, and Sydney thinks they’ll need to get a Michelin star as well, which she’s now tasked with making happen.
After a brief stint at home basically twiddling their thumbs and some pump-up music courtesy of Refused’s “New Noise,” the three reconvene at the restaurant to figure out how they’re going to actually get the Bear up and running. There’s a vision board, timeline, and plan of attack, and while they’re all pretty sure that everything they’re planning on doing is a terrible idea, they’re doing it all the same. It’s that kind of manic confidence and blind ambition that made us all fall for The Bear in the first place, so, to quote Mikey Berzatto, let’s let it rip.
• The episode opens on Marcus rubbing lotion on someone’s hands as they languish in the hospital. We’re left to wonder who it is (His mom? His grandma?) and what’s the gravity of the situation (is she on life support, or just sleeping very deeply while also attached to monitors?), but given the slightly tense and supportive back-and-forth he and Sydney have later on the episode, I’m sure we’ll find out more.
• Did Fak always have a cool, messy rattail braid? Because he sure does now and congrats to him for that, because it’s a great character detail.
• Does anyone know what book Richie is reading? Google is letting me down.
• Wilco sync count this episode: at least one cut, “Handshake Drugs,” off 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
• I’m not even going to go into what “Jewish Lightning” is, but suffice it to say that we learned a bit about Mikey’s nihilism this week, as well as his apparent love for the Boston Red Sox.
• The Beef’s crawl space has an alarm on it for some reason (foreshadowing?), which Richie says makes him think that Mikey was like Kevin McCallister. Also, the alarm password is “gofastboatsmojito,” for some reason.
• KBL stands for Uncle Jimmy’s last name (Kylinowski), Berzatto, and Lane, for “Uncle Lee Lane,” which is the name of a new character that Carmy doesn’t seem into. Could that be who Bob Odenkirk is playing later this season? He’s also not Carmy’s actual uncle, but as Sugar points out, Richie isn’t his actual cousin either, so let’s let that slide.
• Sydney asks Tina to train to be her sous-chef, which Tina seems absolutely ecstatic about. It’s very sweet, and Liza Colón-Zayas is a joy to watch. Hopefully she gets a little more shine this season.
• Speaking of this season, hello again! My name is Marah Eakin and I recapped The Bear season one. I’m thrilled to be back for a second season and, like you, I can’t wait to see how these crazy, greasy kids get out of all their food-based and financial scrapes. Hit me up in the comments or on Twitter where I’m at @marahe, and I’ll do my best to respond.
