The Bear is Back and It Is Back: Season 4 Review

posted by

Josh Barry

June 27, 2025

The Bear Season 4 Review

Season 4 of The Bear is not just a return, it’s a full-blown elevation. From the very first episode, the show wastes no time reminding us why it’s one of the most vital and visceral series on television. The kitchen is still hot, and the emotions razor-sharp. But this season isn’t just about maintaining the pressure, it’s about evolution, and every character is pushed to the edge.

In many ways, Season 4 goes back to the emotional punch and style of Season 2, leaning more heavily into reflection and memory. Flashbacks play a major role here, giving us deeper insight into the characters’ roots, regrets and unresolved relationships. The season opens with a quietly devastating scene of Carmy and Mikey making pasta sauce together, talking about opening a restaurant. It’s heartfelt, beautifully played, and sets the tone for what’s to come, a perfect opener, the kind The Bear just gets right. Mikey asks Carmy if he’s thought about it much, opening a restaurant. Carmy simply says, “I know what it smells like.” In that moment, The Bear distils everything a restaurant is: memory, emotion, family, ambition, grief, all in a single line. It’s a perfect explanation of what restaurants really mean to people. Not just a place, but a feeling.

“bold, blistering, & deeply human“

The review from The Tribune is in, and while it’s not scathing, it isn’t glowing either. It leaves Carmy, Syd and Richie with a lot of questions, not just professionally, but personally. It’s a moment that lands heavily. Have they done enough? Are they truly where they want to be? The review becomes a mirror, one they might not have wanted, but one they now have to look into. For characters built on striving and sacrifice, it’s a reminder that external validation might never be enough, and maybe, the hardest critic is still the one inside.

Season 4 is far less about the kitchen and much more about the people. The tense, high-frenetic scenes and episodes are fewer, but that restraint is for the better. The shift allows the emotional arcs to take centre stage, and the storytelling is more intimate, reflective, and focused on what’s going on internally for these characters.

At the heart of this season is Carmy’s reckoning. This is a guy finally coming to grips with where he is in life and asking himself what he truly wants. It’s about letting go, of the past, of guilt, of control, of perfection. Jeremy Allen White delivers another powerhouse performance, raw and restrained, as Carmy tries to navigate the tension between ambition and peace, pressure and presence.

Sydney takes much more of a centre stage role this season, and Ayo Edebiri absolutely crushes it. Her performance is quietly commanding and nuanced, capturing Sydney’s growth and the complexities of stepping into her own spotlight with a remarkable emotional depth. Both she and Jeremy give their most personal and affecting work to date, restrained but loaded with emotional weight.

And Richie gets a deeply satisfying arc, though perhaps not as towering as his standout turns in “Forks” and Season 3, where he was the clear MVP. Ebon Moss-Bachrach is still fantastic, but the focus shifts slightly this time around. Embrim (Edwin Lee Gibson) also gets a solid storyline as he tries to take The Beef to the next level, a subtle but satisfying thread that adds another layer to the restaurant’s future.

Other standouts include Oliver Platt, once again superb in his role, and Jamie Lee Curtis, who gets far more screen time this season and absolutely nails it. Bob Odenkirk also returns for a single scene-stealing moment. Episode 7 brings back a slew of returning cameos and new faces too, all packed into a massive 69 minute runtime that feels like an event. Even though I would have loved to see more of Matty Matheson and the Faks duo, their presence is always welcome comic relief, I can understand why their roles were limited. It might have disrupted the season’s emotional rhythm. That said, Matty still shines in the scenes he’s given.

Technically, The Bear remains unmatched. The direction is stylish without ever feeling showy. The camera is alive, always in motion, capturing chaos with grace. The editing is sharp and purposeful, and the sound design pulls you straight into the clatter and hum of the kitchen, and into the minds of its overwhelmed chefs. The soundtrack and score are also absolute highlights this season, perfectly curated and emotionally charged, they heavily influence the feel and tone of each episode, shifting gears seamlessly from melancholic to electric. It’s one of the strongest uses of music in a series this year.

What truly sets this season apart is how gracefully it captures personal growth. The Bear has always been about more than food or restaurants, it’s about people trying to rebuild themselves with whatever tools they have. And at this point, it’s baffling how the show continues to be slotted into the comedy/musical category at awards shows. While it began with flashes of humour and chaos, it has evolved into a rich, emotionally resonant drama, layered with grief, love, pressure, and purpose.

This is The Bear at its absolute best: bold, blistering, deeply human. Season 4 isn’t just a continuation, it’s a reckoning, a release, and a reminder that sometimes, the hardest thing to do is let go.