I’ll be contradictory — and maybe even unfair — when talking about the fourth season of The Bear. Because yes, it’s excellent. But also, at times, pretentious. In choosing to slow down, to ease up on the narrative intensity and the boiling toxicity of the Berzattos’ lives and kitchen, the show sacrifices something crucial: its greatest and most undeniable star, Jeremy Allen White. Carmy — the brilliant, emotionally unstable chef who’s captivated us from the pilot — has a noticeably reduced presence. The message is clear: this season belongs to Sydney Adamu (Ayo Edebiri). And here’s the issue — or at least, my issue.

Sydney has never won me over. I know I’m alone in this; the character is celebrated, awarded, praised. But she’s always irritated me. It’s not the performance — which is flawless — or the careful, moving dramatic arc she’s given this season. The discomfort lies in the show’s insistence on making her the emotional heart of the restaurant, when to me, the heartbeat has always been Carmy.

This season begins with a melancholic, almost contemplative tone. The restaurant has just received a lukewarm review — or, in Carmy’s world, a tragedy in prose. The obsessive, perfectionist chef is now forced to confront the failure of his attempt to outdo himself without repeating himself. And also the emotional wreckage he’s left behind: estranged colleagues, a broken family, a lost romance. After pushing everyone to the edge, he’s now trying to apologize and truly change. But is it too late?

Meanwhile, Sydney, under pressure to make decisions, keeps delaying and contemplates leaving. She feels unappreciated, just as Carmy finally starts listening to her. She suffers, hesitates, and stays. Claire, the sweet and idealized love of Carmy’s life, isn’t in a rush to jump back into the melodrama. And the show respects that: Claire stays away. But her absence lingers. Their relationship, even in silence, was the emotional counterbalance to the chaos.

In one episode, Carmy wakes up watching Groundhog Day — the brilliant film about a man trapped in the same day until he changes deeply. It mirrors how he feels: stuck in time, in guilt, in fear, in obsession. To make things worse, the Bear now has two months to turn a profit. If not, it’ll have to shut down. Paradoxically, it’s within that pressure cooker that the kitchen finally finds some peace. In Bear style, of course: messy, emotional, explosive, but functional.

The season features many guest stars — some unnecessary, some brilliant. But the show’s biggest risk now is falling into a formula. Music-video-style montages, intense hallway dialogues, and food close-ups as metaphors for life. The show is still gorgeous, unsettling, sophisticated. But it’s starting to follow a recipe — and for a series that once criticized predictability, that’s a warning sign.

Still, it’s impossible not to feel something. The Bear remains one of the most viscerally human shows on TV. Its silences speak as loudly as its shouting matches. The cast is at its peak — and even with Jeremy Allen White’s reduced screen time, his presence still echoes in every dish, every decision, every gesture. And when he returns to those moments of monologues, tears, and reflection, he soars.

This is an analysis that avoids detailed plot points, but contains one inevitable spoiler from the conclusion. With the ticking clock, time metaphors, and references to films, books, and poetry, the suggestion that Carmy’s habit of abandoning projects and walking away is his way of fighting against his bipolar genetic inheritance feels simplistic and contradictory. The Berzatto family is “crazy,” to put it bluntly — but to a degree that, as Sydney herself admits, absorbs anyone who enters their orbit and ultimately destroys them too. Carmy’s decision that the restaurant will be better off without him is meant to seem altruistic, but is really just another expression of his narcissism and depression — a brilliant chef unable to earn his star while those around him begin to receive recognition. And frankly, it’s a drama I’ve grown tired of.

So, the next season will likely revolve around Sydney stepping into the spotlight, while Carmy lingers in the distance — just a shadow. Contradictory? Yes. But with love. Because The Bear, even in its most uneven season, still cooks with soul. And though it no longer makes us laugh, it delivers spectacular performances. It’s just starting to lose a little salt.