One Of The Scariest Scenes In The Bear Is Half A Damn Episode
(Welcome to Scariest Scene Ever, a column dedicated to the most pulse-pounding moments in horror with your tour guides, horror experts Chris Evangelista and Matt Donato. In this edition, Matt recalls a kitchen nightmare from "The Bear.")
Here in the column, you'll get plenty of traditional horror picks with a few spicy takes thrown in because Chris and I are in charge. This week, I've found yet another reason to write about "The Bear," in easy contention for my favorite new show of 2022. There's something about dramatic expression in restaurant kitchens that's my kind of tantalizing, because cooking is one of the purest art forms. You create culinary art, it's brought directly to consumers, and feedback is instant. It's grueling, unforgiving, and takes so much from passionate chefs — maybe that's why I write about my favorite food moments in film and TV every year.
It's true, "The Bear" doesn't have a horror bone in its narrative broth considering a straightforward sense. Christopher Storer and Joanna Calo showrun a family drama — kitchen family and blood family — about a fine dining chef running his dead brother's Chicago beef sandwich joint. That said, there's an episode during the first season's run that's damn near paralyzing, if you've ever worked in a kitchen — which I have. Where nothing goes right, you're fighting against all odds, and the walls cave in no matter how hard you push them apart. The seventh episode, titled "Review," is the scariest simulation of the food service industry via a one-take descent.
The setup
Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) used to work in Michelin star kitchen brigades for abusive cheftators with ruthless practices. Now he's back home in Chicago running "The Beef," after his brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal) ends his own life. It's a greasy spoon shop that's disorganized, stuck in traditions, and serves a different brand of customer. Carmy decides it's his job to fix "The Beef" instead of selling, which may be the final straw that breaks his own fragile mental state.
The story so far
We learn plenty about Carmy and The Beef's staff throughout the first six episodes. Carmy struggles with the loss of his brother, who kept him from working at The Beef and ignited a fire under Carmy to become the best chef imaginable. Carmy has to earn the trust of veterans like Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), rein in his aggressively ambitious, newly hired sous-chef Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), and keep his pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce) creatively fulfilled but on task. Oh, and contain the loud-mouth de facto manager of The Beef — Richie Jerimovich (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Mikey's friend — as they constantly fight about changing The Beef's system.
It's chaos incarnate from the first scene as Carmy meets apprehension from Richie about doing things differently — nixing sloppy spaghetti or instituting a brigade — since he's the pushy fancy chef, nothing like charismatic Michael. Carmy works with Sydney to get everyone on the same team while dealing with massive debts and loitering gangsters, all while attempting to process Michael's death. It's a messy process that luckily doesn't show on the plate, until the wheels come off in "Review." Everyone's issues reach a boil, all the intense restructuring goes to hell, and what Sydney thought would be the next step in The Beef's evolution — an online ordering system — turns out to be their biggest failure.
The scene
As The Beef preps for another day's service, Ebraheim reads aloud a review that heralds Sydney's cola-braised short rib and risotto test dish that she handed out to a "random customer" — a kind gesture after Carmy says it needs further tightening. Carmy swears things are cool, and that Sydney shouldn't worry. Sydney's anxiousness subsides momentarily, Carmy attempts to be generous given the circumstances. This is just the beginning.
Tina enters The Beef late and with her son Louie, who's been suspended from school. She asks if Louie can shadow throughout the day and be useful, adding another fold to an already doomed shift. Carmy says Sydney can help.
Richie and Sydney have a private conversation where Richie accuses Sydney of trying to take over The Beef with her risotto plot. Richie stands up for the "O.G.'s" Sydney is trying to drive away. The heat begins to increase inside The Beef.
Then, it happens. Carmy switches on their new to-go order system that Sydney helps implement, and tickets start printing with haste. They're piling sky high. Carmy checks the platform and discovers Sydney never disabled the preorder option. They've barely prepped enough for the usual lunch rush, and now countless folks within Chicago ordering distance expect The Beef to prioritize their preorder upon opening.
It's the fears of any kitchen coming to light as Carmy's mental fortitude shatters, affecting those around him as they try to jam out 255 sandwiches, 38 salads, 78 pieces of cake, and so on. There's no salvaging pleasantries when Carmy bites Sydney's head off. Marcus isn't shown compassion when he presents Carmy with a perfect donut that he smashes to the ground because his pastry chef isn't helping their mess. Richie's stab wound in the butt — purely accidental — defines the tsunami of uncontrolled madness that overtakes The Beef. It's everything a chef can't prepare for and nothing they can overcome, which is the scariest thing any professional can face — an unwinnable scenario.
The impact (Chris' Take)
"The Bear" felt like it came out of nowhere. It wasn't even on my radar, but when I saw people raving about the show, I decided to check it out. It more than lived up to its hype, and this particular episode is the best of the bunch. It's basically a half-hour anxiety attack that never lets up. It builds, and builds, and builds towards chaos. I have never worked in a restaurant, and I have no plans of ever doing so. But if I did, this episode would turn me off that idea forever. And while this pick may not be a traditional horror choice, it's scary in the sense that it's so intense that it grabs hold of you and shakes you until you're almost ready to scream. Sounds pretty scary to me.