I understand why many of you tune into FX’s *The Bear*. What you predominantly seek from creator Christopher Storer’s tension-filled character exploration of a chef returning home to rescue his family’s Chicago sandwich shop is the unrestrained kitchen turmoil. The sharp-witted exchanges, the relentless stream of orders, the clanging pots and pans, the rallying cries of “Yes, chef!” and the overall pressure-cooker atmosphere that initially made [the show](https://www.hulu.com/series/05eb6a8e-90ed-4947-8c0b-e6536cbddd5f) quite a hit. But when *The Bear* begins to slow down? When it trades the adrenaline of line-cooking for anxiety attacks, shifting its focus towards therapy sessions, sorrow, uncertainty, and the delicate emotional connections binding these characters?
Suddenly, critics start criticizing the show for [losing its direction](https://slate.com/culture/2024/06/the-bear-season-3-fx-hulu-bad.html).
The series has gained a reputation for being “[the most stressful thing on TV](https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/the-bear-review-fx-1377878/),” as noted by *Rolling Stone*, and Season 4 certainly fulfills that promise. Arguments still flare over botched orders, and the relentless pressure to execute every plate flawlessly remains as fierce as ever. Additionally, overshadowing everything in Season 4 is the weighty financial burden of keeping *The Bear* operational; the restaurant is hemorrhaging money, and Carmy has merely a few weeks to validate the concept before investors withdraw their support. The staff is overextended, profit margins are razor-thin, and the imminent threat of failure is not an abstract idea — it’s a timeframe of weeks, not months.
This brings me to why fans like myself continue to return for *The Bear*: It’s about what the series conveys regarding the passage of time and the inherent transience of life.
Season 4 emphasizes: *The Bear* has consistently explored how tenuous everything is. About how little time we have to get things right, to express what needs to be expressed, and to become who we aspire to be. This theme crystallizes early on, when Richie, amidst a panic attack, quotes Philip K. Dick to Sydney: “Everything in life is just for a while.” Later, when Sydney’s father suffers a heart attack, Claire delicately reminds her that “there’s always a clock,” whether it concerns our parents, ourselves, or the things and people we create and share our lives with.
For a series that has consistently thrived in the present — the precariousness of dinner service and the rush of kitchen preparation — Season 4 continually looks back and checks that clock. “Every second counts,” the characters remind one another, and consequently us, time and again.
Originally a call to urgency, that phrase has evolved into something deeper over time. For Carmy, “Every second counts” clearly feels burdensome — a benchmark of failure, wasted moments, and postponed dreams. However, for characters like Richie and Marcus, that same phrase has transformed into a form of permission: To slow down, be mindful, and make each moment significant.
