Carmy struggles to achieve success with uneven results

As for “The Bear,” there will be blood. Heart and warmth too. But also screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.

The sweaty, crazy story of a humble Chicago sandwich shop that flips through Italian beef before moving on to fine dining – the third season of the FX series (streaming on Hulu) has reached the point of its sink-or-swim narrative – a restaurant startup run by a chef whose ambitions may surpass reality.

The show’s slice-of-life anxieties caused stress when it premiered two years ago, and it still does. The laser-like focus of “The Bear” from previous seasons has changed. I like that showrunners Christopher Storer and Joanna Calo don’t feel forced to rush things – it’s the tedious work of a restaurant that’s still managing to get going – but at times it feels like the episodes are going in circles or waiting for something significant to take shape.

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) is at the center of it all. Always been like that. But more than ever, this has become Carmy’s show. After his opening night breakdown at the end of Season 2, the new season begins with the aftermath of a 35-minute montage of meditative scenes shifting back and forth in time, depicting the moments — and people — that shaped the man. It’s a risk to start the season this way. The episode demands patience that it doesn’t always deserve. We already know who Carmy is, a sad, empty man who pursues professional validation to escape the shadow of his dysfunctional upbringing. Recapitulating this in the episode doesn’t deepen our understanding of how we got here, or what it means for everyone else who trusted his talent.

As the story begins in earnest in the second episode and his co-stars start writing bright and early, Carmy’s nickname – Bear – becomes all too literal as he breaks in and projects all of his shame and inadequacy onto them.

His desire for perfection means he recreates the environment of clenched fear and consternation that he so much hated in the worst of his previous work. Any shred of perspective he gained by returning home to his family’s restaurant and starting over has vanished. Emotionally, he has withdrawn, and his tantrums are fraying his nerves. It’s amazing that no one has yet broken through his block.

Carmy is determined to earn this place a Michelin star, even if he alienates everyone around him in the process. Cousin Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), who has improved his skills by running outside the house, has more practical concerns. He just wants to do a good job and cares about customer satisfaction. He’s not interested in “the gastronomic tendencies of some dusty French tire marketing executive.” And by the way: “I’m a Pirelli guy.”

Despite the more collaborative relationship that once existed between Carmy and Chef Sydney (Ayo Edebiri), Carmy now has tunnel vision that sidelines her own creativity. An offer to make her a partner is on the table. But gone are the days of mentoring and quiet time outdoors. Some viewers hoped their relationship would develop into something more. Restaurants are notorious for inconsiderate interactions with staff. But Carmy can be disrespectful and dismissive of Sydney – he doesn’t single her out; that’s how he treats everyone – and the show makes it clear that if you care about Sydney, you wouldn’t want that for her romantically. Either way, there’s something fascinating about friends and colleagues bonding with an intimacy and intensity that jumps off the screen but remains platonic.

That said, Sydney’s story feels underused this season, even as Edebiri conveys so much through her character’s thoughtful, sometimes uncomfortable silence. She is conflict averse, but will eventually need to have a meaningful conversation with Carmy. Meanwhile, he is the taskmaster and she, like everyone else, exists to carry out his vision. Pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce) has also been sidelined in favor of more Carma. Other members of the kitchen are given brief attention: Sweeps (Corey Hendrix) is put on the sommelier track, and Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson) is tasked with manning the Italian beef takeout window. But it’s a missed opportunity that the show doesn’t spend more time deepening their personalities and perspectives when it comes to all the changes in their workplace.

At best, Carmy communicates through resignation or gritted teeth. At worst it blows up. The stakes are high: if the restaurant doesn’t make money QuickUncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt) – who poured almost a million dollars into the place – will pull the plug. Their fate hangs in the balance as they await a review in the Chicago Tribune.

None of this looks like a comedy, even if the network categorized the show that way in order to win awards. There is less humor than ever this season. Most of the comic elements come from Frick-and-Frack brothers Neil and Ted Fak (played by Matty Matheson and Ricky Staffieri), and a bit of their cleverness goes a long way. The show struggles with this balance.

If Season 3 doesn’t reach the heights of previous seasons, the best of it still works exceptionally well, especially when it slows down and takes a breath. There’s an episode devoted to Richie’s awkward but somehow graceful acceptance of his post-divorce personal life. It’s not clear if he’s getting professional help, but I’d wager he is, judging by the therapeutic speech that occasionally spices up his speech: “Chef Carmen uses power phrases because he’s a little replicant who hasn’t achieved self-actualization.” Another great episode (directed by Edebiri) is the story of Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), who started working at the Original Beef of Chicagoland and provides a wonderful contrast to the present. When he first comes in, he is life in place of; you can clearly see what has been lost over the years. There’s nothing wrong with Carmy pushing the business in a different direction, but this flashback highlights the sadness they’re all carrying right now and how deeply Carmy has hurt them over the months. These episodes allow you to live with the characters in their quieter moments, away from mishes Carmy commits crimes in the kitchen.

There is a brief mention of older residents complaining that the core neighborhood has abandoned its roots. I wish the show would be more interested in exploring this. There remains an unanswered question that I first raised last season: Carmy and Sydney, as a couple, have found true fulfillment and dignity in producing affordable food better in a dirty little sandwich place. So what is behind the desire to achieve something noteworthy in an elegant restaurant space? I think it’s a return to the past for Sydney after her previous ambitions burned her down.

For Carmy, the answers are less clear. He left home only to lose himself in the punishing world of elite kitchens. He found a part of himself again among the beef juice-splattered rooms of the family business. Now he has once again rejected it in favor of a dream that may not even be fulfilling if he achieves it. He said as much in the first season, describing what it felt like to win his first Michelin stars. Perhaps part of this comes from earning the appropriate accolades necessary to ensure the restaurant’s profitability. But not everything.

It’s a battle for Carmy’s soul as he tries to outrun his feelings. What does he want Really? Where does Sydney – or anyone else – fit into this? As the season finale promises, “a continuation.”

“The Bear” season 3 – 3 stars (of 4)

Where to watch: Hulu

Nina Metz is a Tribune critic