Richie was a lost cause until a wonderful episode ended with a delightful jam session in his car.
WARNING: DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE SECOND SEASON OF THE BEAR. HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD.
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Richie Jerimovich is not a complicated man.
He loves Chicago sports to an obnoxious degree and harbors an abrasive disposition to almost everyone in his life. Why? Because this man stuck in arrested development believes everyone is out to get him. It’s a familiar refrain for many. But to say Richie doesn’t care would be a rash overstatement. It would be doing a disservice to a frustrated human being who stumbled around reality for over 40 years, never knowing where he belonged.
Season 2 of The Bear dropped on Hulu last week to rave reviews and reignited conversations about a Chicago culinary staple. There will be so much to unpack in the coming months about what’s next for this tremendous summer hit.
And the best story of the program’s second humble offering is clearly the extraordinary arc of one Mr. Jerimovich, which is captured intimately in the late-season “Forks” episode.
When we first met Richie last summer, he was a sharp thorn in Carmy’s side. And Sydney’s side. And Natalie’s side. And, last but certainly not least, his ex-wife, Tiffany. Richie was the quintessential rebel stirring up trouble at the former “The Beef” just because he wanted to. He flat-out refused to buy in. Oh, and to put a cherry on top, he was way too liberal with demeaning slurs. In essence, Richie checked every box of an oaf who loved projecting his shortcomings.
With the Berzattos rebuilding The Beef into the eponymous “The Bear” throughout the second season, Richie’s disregard for others comes into greater focus. And, as insecure and unnecessarily defensive as he might be, Richie understands he doesn’t bring much to the table. A frank conversation with Carmy about feeling a lack of “purpose” and being left behind says everything.
Richie is a middle-aged man stuck in Purgatory, and he doesn’t know how to escape.
But as much as Richie is a massive pain in his butt, Carmy never gives up on his beloved “cousin.” He knows he isn’t rotten to the core and sees potential in him. More importantly, Carmy notices Richie’s innate ability to relate to people when he wants to. It is a rare gift, a fatal flaw Carmy himself struggles with, making him admire Richie even more.
So, the more accomplished Carmy reaches into his handy dandy bag of fine-dining connections. He sends Richie to practice being a dynamite restaurant host at the quote-unquote “best restaurant in the world” for a week. It is a gesture almost anyone hanging on the margins would’ve appreciated.
Richie being Richie, he, of course, doesn’t buy in.
Richie being Richie, he processes being given menial tasks like polishing forks all day to be a personal affront.
Richie being Richie, he initially believes Carmy sent him to a restaurant with three Michelin stars to “punish” him for being an unsavory nuisance.
As the grumbling Jerimovich realizes, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. We slowly see a man previously lost in the fog finding his calling. Every day, as evidenced by a poetic alarm clock in the darkness, he wakes up earlier. On his own, he studies fine-dining nuances at home. And when it’s time just to be himself, to be Richie — a magnet of charisma — he applies everything he’s learned to be a charming ball of light for a table of guests.
Richie’s purpose snaps into focus. He gets it.
While I’d be tempted to mark Richie finally growing up and attaining happiness with professional achievement, I think one moment stands out the most as a signifier of when he turned the page.
It comes on the final night of his high-profile assignment.
After admonishing Carmy over the phone for sending him away to the restaurant — not because he means it, but because he’s Richie and has to keep up a pretend hostile facade — Richie hops into his busted-down car. This man with a heart of gold covered by rotten onion leaves floors it, belting a song from his young daughter’s favorite artist at the top of his lungs:
Taylor Swift’s classic “Love Story.”
It is a hilarious moment from The Bear’s most hardened character, perfectly exemplifying how he’s come full circle as a person.
The most impressive gutting and reconstruction of The Bear’s second season didn’t involve the titular restaurant. It was Richie, finally realizing he had something to offer the world, giving us a delightful cover from an all-time pop singer’s catalog.
