'The Bear' Season 5 Dishes Out One Last Course to Savor
- Ethan Kaufman
- 6 days ago
- 8 min read
The following review contains major spoilers for The Bear Season 5.
Last week, the staff at Chicago’s most dysfunctional fictional restaurant shouted “doors” for the last time, capping off the esteemed five-season run of a show defined by its frenetic kitchen and found family. For those who missed the initial wave of The Bear, I’ll catch you up to speed, as what’s been a full-course dinner for some left others wanting for more.
In 2022, which also saw pilot seasons from Severance and Andor, The Bear still stood out as one of the year’s strongest debuts. The abrasive yet lovable cast of characters gelled instantly and the series’ trademark fast-paced editing expertly heightened every emotional beat. Season two was even better, adding a ticking clock to keep the tension up and diverging from the typical structure with standout episodes like “Fishes” and “Forks” which fleshed out supporting characters with maturity and heart. Its finale saw protagonist Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) hit a personal low during a narrative high, and after that? Well, as many invested viewers lamented, that’s when the stove went cold.
While more positively reviewed than most of its contemporaries, reception for seasons three and four was noticeably more divisive. The shift to an increasingly vibes-based storytelling often meant that dramatic pacing was put on the back-burner, leaving external conflict behind as a forgotten side dish. The general consensus was lukewarm, and even though I’ve gone to bat for these seasons in any conversation about the show I’ve been a part of, I’d still agree they’re the show’s weakest stretch.
That brings us back to 2026, when all eyes were on the final season to see how it might fit into the greater quality arc of the show. But first, fans were treated to a surprise special episode on May 5 – a flashback titled “Gary” – which saw Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and Mikey (Jon Bernthal) taking a road trip to the titular Indiana city. Co-written by Bernthal and Moss-Bachrach and directed by series creator Christopher Storer, it was conceived as a standalone story to flesh out Richie and Mikey’s friendship, as Mikey has taken his own life before the events of the show. Thus, it proved to be minimally invasive in the grand scheme of the show’s plot.
The day after “Gary,” a release date for season five was announced, along with the news that it would be the show’s last. Seven weeks later, it’s safe to say the entire cast and creative team brought their A-game. Given that I’ve been ride-or-die with The Bear since the start, I’m hesitant to call the season a return to form. I’ve yapped about it extensively on my podcast and, in my opinion, the thing’s a modern classic. But I feel like even the haters can’t dismiss this final act, as much as they might try. Season five is brisk but undeniably bold, plainly subverting conventions of what a final season can be.
The most immediate creative swing is the fact that nearly the entire season takes place over a single day. It’s a decision that’s both restrictive (no opportunity for long-form arcs, and characters who mostly exist outside the kitchen are irrelevant) and intriguing (more sustained tension, smaller moments have increased significance). Critics of the new episodes have said the approach does little more than “reheat The Pitt’s nachos,” but The Bear has always been a study on hospitality, mental health and community in a fast-paced work environment. To call it derivative is flavorless, and it does more than enough stylistically to distinguish itself.
The choice is also quite purposeful as a means of heightening the pressure-cooker dramatic thrills. The restaurant's closure due to dwindling finances looms, Carmy’s trying to keep his impending exit from the food industry on the down-low, and a torrential downpour rages formidably across Chicago, ravaging the building interior once the urban infrastructure gives way. These all fuel a tense atmosphere that’s been built up by the events of season four, but is remarkably self-contained in execution.
The storm is a classic “man vs. nature” obstacle for the staff to overcome, driving additional conflict and making every step of the typical prep and dinner service a little bit harder. It also lends to an incredible juxtaposed mood: the outside drenched and dreary, while The Bear hustles with grindset vitality. It quite literally puts a damper on the day, making success feel like an impossibility to the point where the eventual service going relatively smoothly is a massive relief.
Episode 7, “Caramel,” is the best of the series since the season two finale thanks in large part to how minimally discordant it is. We’ve seen firsthand in “Review” and “The Bear” how stressful the kitchen can get while filling patrons’ demands; after six episodes of buildup, it’s genuinely momentous to see the clutch teamwork under the circumstances. The job hasn’t gotten any easier but the staff are now much better at handling their temperament. There are enough valleys among the hills to keep the stakes palpable (Carmy drops a critical dish, the stove unexpectedly shuts off) but for the most part, it’s a harmonious shift. The unmitigated swagger of Marcus (Lionel Boyce) revealing the caramel sauce inside a candle at his father’s table is the cherry on top.
Beyond everyone simply coming together, each individual member of the team is also operating at their peak. Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) in particular steps up as the main authority now that Carmy’s ceded control, and it’s under her sense of leadership that everyone else is able to thrive. Sure, she has moments of overwhelm – like the best of us – but her level-headedness reliably minimizes the onslaught of impediments and occupational hazards. It’s a greatly fulfilling completion of her arc after starting out starstruck by a bite of Carmy’s dish at Empire, to his Head Chef now leading his staff to multiple Michelin stars.
Richie is another standout of the season. His relentless work ethic and commitment to service – renewed in season two when he staged at Ever – made him a true force among the front-of-house team once The Beef was upgraded to a more lavish culinary temple. This time, we see a more rigid side of that change: He is wholly stubborn, as if it has become a carnal need to accommodate everyone with a reservation rather than cancelling and preventing overflow. He defies direct orders from Sydney, turning the patio into an impromptu street party and forcing the kitchen into unexpected tours that disrupt workflow. His flaws creep through, but they’re merely echoes of his belief that everyone deserves a night of fine dining. He’s still an essential component who reminds everyone why they do what they do.
The cast is rounded out by smaller players getting big moments to shine. Ebraheim’s (Edwin Lee Gibson) strategy to franchise The Beef looks to unburden the business financially and Fak’s (Matty Matheson) interaction with a pair of crucial restaurant-goers entertains them rather than inviting hostile awkwardness. With so much character work in so little time, it seems that Carmy himself has almost become an afterthought in his own show.
Carmy’s place in the kitchen is the ingredient I’m most mixed on, as in some ways it feels like we’re reneging on his landmark choice at the end of last season. The day we center on here directly follows “Goodbye”, so only a few core staff know he’s on his way out. It’s like he was soft-launching his quit, more or less lingering around while Sydney takes over executive chef duties. It honestly reminded me quite a bit of the most recent Toy Story film – another fifth installment where the main protagonist is given a reduced role so the female companion can lead in his stead. Similar to Woody, Carmy’s development was mostly completed in chapter four (with a revelation about leaving the gang in order to find new meaning) but it’s impossible to imagine the series without him.
Yet the writers are aware of this weird limbo area, halfway between lunch and dinner, and thus comment on it frequently. As long as Carmy resides under the roof of The Bear, he refuses to check out, which results in constant micromanaging of Sydney. With aggravating interjections abound, Sydney – in a bout of frustration – accidentally drops the bombshell to the rest of the staff in Episode 3, a great moment that adds turmoil to the group dynamic. By the end of the day, Carmy is finally able to fully let go, and Episode 8 sees him deliver a phenomenal monologue during an interview for an internship at an architectural firm. Season five is sometimes confused by where Carmy fits and can backtrack a little, but ultimately closes his story with an engaging critique on half measures.
There’s some other garnishes from this final course I’m not wildly fond of. The B-plot with Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) trying to sell the building’s air rights after a series of bad investments is never as gripping as what’s happening inside the kitchen, as much as I got a kick out of newcomer Elsie Fisher. The Fak brothers still aren’t as funny as the show thinks they are.
By nature of setting the whole thing in a 24-hour period, some beats come off rushed. While I love their pairing, Richie’s romance with Jess (Sarah Ramos) materializes too quickly, as does his final push toward Japan, and the slow-mo montage of everyone convening in the finale for Eva’s (Annabelle Toomey) birthday just served to remind me of the many characters who should’ve had more screentime. I would’ve liked one last Mikey flashback for Carmy, but the “all good” text he sends in the last episode admittedly warmed my heart a great deal.
The minor issues do little to drag my stance on the season, and there are some technical aspects that are cooking this time around. For instance, the music, which has long been core to The Bear’s identity, is completely reinvented. Familiar needle drops and background soundtracking are exchanged for a propulsive original score from Christian Lundberg, produced by Hans Zimmer, which brings a synth-infused momentum that becomes the second-most immediate creative swing this season. I previously panned Zimmer’s contributions to the Euphoria audio library, but he’s an irrefutable legend and his work here with Lundberg sets the driving pulse of the final episodes.
The cinematography and editing are also way up to par for the series. Season four’s more reflective aesthetic was certainly welcome, but I tend to think The Bear is at its best when showing off delectable eats and frantically cutting between its cast. The gang’s squarely back in the kitchen for the first time in a while, and it’s immensely refreshing.
We’re at a huge turning point in television right now where major shows are dismally ending their runs every other month. As a serial binger of Stranger Things, The Boys and Euphoria, it’s gotten tiresome waiting years for new content only to leave the table with a nasty aftertaste. The Bear served uprapidly brought us an impressive five seasons in four years, and with this final season, we finally have some good fucking food.
Season five is the best the show has been in years, as well as the strongest TV of 2026 so far. It’s not flawless, but the move to isolate the narrative is a risky play that undoubtedly pans out, pioneering one of the most audacious conclusive chapters in recent memory. It’s a jolt of electricity that cements The Bear as one of the decade’s greatest titles (and all in a snappy four and a half hours). Viewers who aren’t invested in the characters may find it a haphazard epilogue, but for those who care even a little, it’s a profoundly satisfying full meal.
All episodes of ‘The Bear’ are now streaming on Hulu.
-Ethan
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