In the closing scenes of The Bear Season 3, Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) anxiously browses The Chicago Tribune‘s critical restaurant review, before blurting out a frustrated “motherfucker!” The review cryptically mixes praise with criticism, using terms like “excellent” and “innovative” alongside “sloppy” and “stale,” leaving viewers guessing about the fate of the fine dining establishment. On June 25, the show’s creators Christopher Storer and Joanna Calo delivered the anticipated Season 4 — fulfilling the finale’s cliffhanger promise — offering revelations, both promising and challenging.

The Bear Season 4 spoilers ahead.

Before unveiling the true state of Carmy and his team, The Bear Season 4 revisits the past. However, no need to worry, “Tomorrow” critics (I am not among them): Instead of revisiting the long, debated flashbacks of Season 3’s debut, a timer echoes, whisking us back to the Berzatto family kitchen. There, Carmen passionately proposes to his late brother Michael (Jon Bernthal) the vision of launching their own restaurant, a special place to share delicious food, create happiness, and care for others. In the present, faced with the largely unfavorable Tribune review indicating that his poor communication, frequent menu changes, and narrow-mindedness have negatively impacted The Bear, Carmy realizes he has strayed from his original passion and vision.

Reacting to the harsh critique, Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) and “The Computer” (Brian Koppelman) escalate the pressure by placing a daunting countdown clock in the kitchen. When its 1,400 hours — approximately two months — expire, the funds dry up and The Bear closes, barring an unlikely Michelin star acquisition. Therefore, with three recognizable new recruits (plus one overly qualified intern), the team embarks on a mission to prevent The Bear from permanent closure.

Among Season 3’s many criticisms, fans grew fatigued by static, monotonous episodes that seemingly mirrored Carmy’s brooding psyche. Season 4 wastes no time addressing the repetition by showing the burnt-out chef watching a perfectly teed up scene from Groundhog Day in which Bill Murray’s jaded character asks: “What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same?” While the culinary genius still sports his signature quiet intensity this season, a newly self-aware, introspective Carmy finally attempts to break free from his toxic cycles, take accountability for his past mistakes, and evolve.

On top of the review and Season 3’s showdown with Chef Fields (Joel McHale), Carmy’s long-overdue epiphany is prompted by sous-chef Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), who questions his dependency on dysfunction. As Carmy starts treating Syd like a true partner, her deadline to decide whether to stay loyal to The Bear or team up with former Ever Chef de Cuisine Adam Shapiro looms. With bad credit, less than $1,000 in her bank account, and barely enough time to take a phone call with her dad, the pressure is on. And Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), who has one of The Bear’s infamous back alley panic attacks this season, relates. Haunted by his own subpar review section, the Season 2 finale feud with his cousin, and the invite to his ex-wife Tiffany’s (Gillian Jacobs) wedding, the maître d’ starts the season feeling isolated, insecure, and uninspired.

Rather than let every emotion simmer on the back burner like they did in Season 3, these chefs thankfully start facing their inner bears head-on. But outside of the main trio, other supporting characters barely have time for fulfilling arcs. The Tribune’s praise for the beef window motivates Ebra (Edwin Lee Gibson) to “create opportunity,” and though fans long for Gibson’s time in the spotlight, the stretched storyline barely taps the actor’s potential. The same goes for Corey Hendrix, who gets slightly more screen time to deepen Gary/Sweeps’ knowledge of wine pairings.

Still mourning the death of his mom, Marcus (Lionel Boyce) navigates a budding relationship with his estranged father, but beyond minor parental developments and pastry progress, viewers don’t get a chance to explore his world. Fresh off her solo Season 3 episode and surprise 2024 Emmy win, The Bear has the audacity to put Liza Colón-Zayas on the back burner, giving Tina a single goal: perfect her pasta skills. Meanwhile, Natalie (Abby Elliot) splits her attention between The Bear, baby Sophie, and her long-running feud with Francie “Bitchfuck Betrayer” Fak, played by Season 4’s most jaw-dropping guest star. (Spoiler: It’s an Oscar-winning Marvel actor.)

At the end of Season 4’s premiere, viewers will be buzzing with a familiar sense of urgency that Season 3’s divisive debut installment failed to deliver. It’s a hopeful start, but as episodes pass, The Bear reheats some of Season 3’s nachos, encountering similar problems with execution. The “Every Second Counts” mantra that rules the kitchen is nearly non-existent in personal storylines. Considering Carmy was in the emotional trenches, we can understand why he procrastinated a sprint to Claire’s (Molly Gordon) house, delayed essential conversations, and avoided processing family trauma. But The Bear’s issues with timing and narrative pacing haven’t disappeared. Marcus sells his mom’s house on the first try in a tricky market, yet takes two seasons to complete his violet caramel dessert. Tina spends two months trying to cook a single pasta serving in under three minutes. And how can Sydney leave Chef Adam hanging for so long while not signing, opening, or discussing her partnership agreement from The Bear?

On the topic of timing, Episode 7, a whopping 69-minute break from form, brings the Berzatto blood/work families together under one roof to support Tiff (and Richie) on her wedding day. Since everyone, including emotional wildcards Donna (Jamie Lee Curtis) and Uncle Lee (Bob Odenkirk), is striving for personal growth, the installment doesn’t produce the meticulously-crafted chaos of Season 2’s fateful “Fishes” episode. In some ways, that’s good, as choosing calm over predictable destruction shows The Bear is also trying to break its own behavioral patterns. But without the endless turmoil of “Fishes,” the heartwarming installment drags at times, and several creative choices suggest that, much like its central character Carmy, the series is still capable of self-sabotage.

OG fans of The Bear know its capacity for greatness, so when scenes become too self-indulgent and overextended bits read like forced comedic relief (cc: the Faks), the series feels tonally uneven. Even if The Bear still isn’t cooking like it once was, to ignore the show’s positive attributes would be disingenuous.

Episode 4, for instance, written by Edebiri and Boyce, shows Sydney spending time with family and trading fancy scallop dishes for Hamburger Helper. Like “Honeydew” and “Forks” before it, the standout solo showcase radiates unassuming brilliance, proving that The Bear can captivate and uplift without over-relying on flashbacks or agita. Another installment finds Carmy, Sydney, and Richie yapping for a full 33-minute run time. While some are bound to find the big swing insufferable, to me, it’s brilliant. With so much of The Bear oscillating between quiet character reflections and meditative montages, the series excels when characters lock in for intimate conversations — even when they come later than viewers hope.

Technically speaking, The Bear is still a bold stunner. Carefully curated shots of food prep are delectable as ever, while anxiety-fueled montages palpably boost adrenaline. Music sets the mood, sentimental scenes capture modicums of the old “Forks” magic, and even in its darkest moments, the show exudes heart and honors the service industry. What ultimately makes the series so affecting are stellar dramatic performances. Edebiri shows her range, unlocking new emotional facets of Sydney. Richie feels so ingrained in Moss-Bachrach’s DNA that it’s impossible to tell where the actor ends and the character begins. And though he derives significantly more enjoyment this season than last, White has mastered the portrayal of a tortured chef.

While certain elements of Season 4 were filmed alongside its third season, it’s unclear which scenes were shot before Season 3’s backlash hit — and what role that negative feedback played in crafting this season’s storylines. For me, even when the show simmers rather than reaching a full boil, it’s easy to devour. But if both seasons were condensed to a single chapter, the viewing experience might feel a little less like Groundhog Day.

When Carmy contemplated his legacy back in Season 3, he told Marcus and Syd, “If I were gonna leave something behind, I would want it to be panic-less, anxiety free. And in order to do that. I think I’d have to be square with everything and everybody. To make it good, I’d have to filter out the bad.”

Without giving him the opportunity to evolve and grow this season, the series would have stalled. But heading into Season 5 without the Carmy’s secret sauce — the dysfunction, mess, and chaos that helped make The Bear‘s first two seasons so delicious — the show will need to follow its protagonist, filter out the bad, and rewrite its recipe for success.

The Bear Season 4 is now streaming on Hulu.