I Choose The Bear
Television worth watching.
Season four of The Bear came out last week, and I devoured it in a day. Yes, I am a fan. And I really don’t understand anyone (namely, professional critics) who isn’t. First, it’s great writing, character development and storytelling. Second, the true beauty of it is a bunch of broken people coming together to heal, grow and become happier.
What? You don’t see that? If you think it’s a show about food and a restaurant and a bunch of yelling Chicagoans, it’s not. It’s much, much more than that.
Welcome to A Sassy Little Substack, a reader-supported publication about cultivating happiness and eschewing toxic positivity by certified happiness and trauma-informed wellness coach, Sandra Ann Miller, a.k.a. The Happyist. New posts drop each Wednesday until the end of August, when this ‘stack will close its doors. But, a new door has opened…
Become a member of The Happyist Substack and receive a link to a free PDF to help answer the question, “WTF Is Happiness Anyway?” Read that welcome email!
And if you want to wear your happiness well, visit the Etsy shop. Happiness is Punk AF, friends! Check it out! xo
Some of the show’s criticism stems from the fact that these characters aren’t resolving things fast enough, dammit! As if this were a 60-minute procedural. No. This is what healing certain types of trauma looks like, feels like, moves like. And it’s in those little flashes of connection, realization, accomplishment and joy from the folks at The Bear that we taste the Michelin-star deliciousness. You see, I’m not there for the food. I’m there for the people. Fictional as they may be.
I totally get it if the yelling and the chaos and the conflict are hard to watch, because it’s too familiar and triggering. Heard and understood. Some episodes I need to put on pause, get up, walk around, take a breath, have a snack. But those episodes are so well done, I have to go back to them. Because they are exquisite in their rendering of a certain type of broken. And I use that term deliberately. We break. We crack. We heal and mend. These characters are broken, in varying and very human degrees, and that’s what makes them compelling. They are all dealing with grief, at different levels and in different forms, and that is layered. Those layers run deep, putting an onion to shame, both in degrees of rings and tear-making.
These characters repeat behaviors and choices that you know — and I know and they know — will lead to the same outcome, and they are as frustrated by that as we are. And, in that, we have the opportunity to see parts of ourselves and people we know. Or, we see the characters turn a corner, gain some ground, open up, realize their growth, and witness parts of ourselves in that, too.
The series offers a chance for introspection and reflection while being entertained. Which is pretty effing rare and something to appreciate. Yes, you will laugh. Perhaps, you’ll cry. You might get irritated as well. Hello? This show makes you feel. And, maybe for some, that might be more than they signed up for.
People either love The Bear or they really super don’t. I understand why. Either you get it, or you got lucky in life12.
Here’s a review from Vanity Fair, that sort of came off as a self-own:
Everyone is upset all the time on The Bear: watery eyed and distracted, a camera hovering close to their face, some crinkly song telling us to feel for them. But Storer barely articulates where all this emotion is coming from until the very end of the season—then it turns out to be the same old shit from season one. Growth is in short supply on The Bear, save for a few effective moments when a character actually makes a decision—to move on, to forgive, to love, whatever. Maybe that slowness is indeed how people process things in real life, but it makes for fatally inert television.
Growth is in short supply? The series’ creator barely articulates where all this emotion is coming from until the very end of the season? Um, no and no. Did reviewer Richard Lawson not see season three? And, yes, slowness is indeed how people process things, like grief and trauma, in real life. And, it’s kind of refreshing to see how that’s played out in this series. The growth is there. In baby steps. And that’s where the grace and beauty of this show lie. The more we come to understand the characters, another layer is revealed and we see how deep the character development is willing to go.
I’m the first to admit I’m a TV snob. A BFA in Film (that I’m still paying off) will do that to a person. I grew up watching great stuff, like Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Night Gallery (at three), all the old monster movies, the musicals (which I never particularly cottoned to), everything Norma Lear did, McMillan & Wife, McCloud, Columbo. The Flip Wilson Show. Laugh In. Sonny & Cher. And this was before kindergarten. By no means was I easily entertained. I couldn’t stand Lawrence Welk or any of the Elvis movies. But I knew good stuff when I saw it.
And I didn’t just watch TV, I wanted to understand it. The storylines, the tension, good triumphing over evil. Why it made me feel something. And what happened when it didn’t. It was my first foray into studying human behavior, even if the humans were playacting, and the decisions they made were crafted on a page. It was also showing me that things could be different — better or worse — than what I had at home. In ways, it taught compassion.
Through school, I did homework with the TV on. I still write with the TV on. Silence doesn’t work for me. The screenplays I wrote for my graduation project were done with Goodfellas and Citizen Kane on VHS loops. I lovingly recorded every single episode of Twin Peaks. And the hill I will die on is that there was no character ever put on a network television screen more terrifying than “Bob”.
My TV watch-time has dwindled down to things that are both informative and entertaining. I will watch3 the same documentaries and TV series if there isn’t anything new to move or enlighten me (don’t ask how many times I’ve viewed The Wire, Breaking Bad and Mad Men in their entirety). I can’t even hate-watch And Just Like That… anymore because it’s so far removed from the human experience (as portrayed by made-up people), and so full of itself that it’s not even escapism. It’s just gross. I’m down to two shows on Bravo and, with Paige off Summer House, I’ll be at one. Times change. Tastes change. Tolerances change. And hopefully, it’s an upward spiral of wanting more and better. Wanting to feel connected and enlightened. Or, if it’s a pure indulgence, that said indulgence is inspiring on some level.
Is The Bear perfect? Of course not. Does it offer catharsis and a damned fine soundtrack4? Yep. Am I desperately waiting for season five? Sure am. Because I want to see where the writers will take us. Unfortunately, we don’t know if there will indeed be a fifth season. And the beauty of this writing is that, even if we don’t (but, boy, we’d better), we were respected enough as viewers to know what we needed to know, and resolve in our own minds what needed resolving. We know what’s possible for those fictional people. Question is, do we know what’s possible for ourselves? xo
Like this sassy little ‘stack? Please ❤️, comment and share it with friends. Thank you! xo
What’s Happening at The Happyist
Earworm of the Week
And by “lucky”, I mean either you escaped trauma altogether and woo-hoo you! (Seriously, congrats.) Or you have zero self-awareness, and that’s sort of a weird win, but, hey! Take the trophy!
One of my favorite quotes, and I wish I knew who to attribute it to, is: Did you have a happy childhood or are you funny?
I mean, it’s on as background/distraction. Not exactly glued to it. My current on-repeat is Pee-wee as Himself. Really good.
Up yours, Lawson. I bet Nickelback is more your speed.
Could! Not! Agree! More!!
I am also a big fan and haven't seen the newest season yet. Looking forward to it.