It’s easy to wince when the conversation turns to 40s guys like Richie Jerimovich (Ebon Moss-Bachrachon) on The Bear having a hard time with change and the feeling that they’re being replaced. Remarks, acts, or policies designed to shame, harm, or halt progress often seem to follow as they lash out. Unsurprisingly, this can cause those statements of fear and insecurity to lose their emotional power as an invitation for empathy.
Richie isn’t trying to stop progress, though. He’s trying to stay in the flow, gritting his teeth and willing his way to relevancy. His big dumb heart is in the right place when he overcompensates, trying to take charge and get things done during a messy renovation that’ll turn The Beef into an upscale spot worthy of a Michelin star. But Richie’s a narcissist, so of course he assumes that his is the only way when it comes to dealing with a mold problem and that The Beef’s neighbor won’t mind if they siphon some electricity from them. That last bit is a typical Richie move, signaling at this second season’s halfway point that he’s the same reliably dim, disruptive, comic relief character that he was in the first season. But by the final moments of the season finale, we understand that Richie might be the emotional core of The Bear and a cautionary tale in a nice suit.
This season’s 6th episode, ‘Fishes,’ is all about family trauma. Jamie Lee Curtis is going to get trophies for the work she does as the Berzatto family matriarch, Donna, in the episode (which is set 5 years in the past). Ditto Jon Bernthal for his return engagement as Carmy’s (Jeremy Allen White) brother, Mikey. Together they and a slew of other guest stars (Bob Odenkirk, John Mulaney, and Sarah Paulson) firmly establish the tumult that Carmy was raised around, how some people tried to keep him clear of the blast radius, and the blend of PTSD and people-pleasing that have the kitchen prodigy all twisted up inside. Off to the side, though, there’s a full helping of heartbreak coming from Richie and his efforts to ease the worries of his then-pregnant wife, Tiffany (Gillian Jacobs), by begging Jimmy (Oliver Platt) for a job and then providing an overly sunny view of his chances of getting said job before he gets bailed out (Platt is, as always, outstanding).
We know, of course, that Richie and Tiffany’s marriage falls apart eventually and that he is, essentially, stuck in place, trying to be a good dad and hoping to win his wife back without much hope.
When Richie finds out, in episode 7, ‘Forks,’ that Tiffany is getting remarried, we feel like we know how this is going to go. He was already feeling like he was fading away at work, especially after being exiled. But while he lives out that anger for a second, he finds rope at rock bottom leading him up toward inspiration and illumination around the idea that he can make people happy, not just fed while working at a restaurant.
‘Forks’ is a brilliant stand-alone episode that sets up Richie’s part in the intricately choreographed actions of the season finale. In that episode, it’s friends and family night, a kind of final stress test/soft launch for the new restaurant and Richie is confidently keeping the beat in the kitchen after everything that could go wrong does. It’s impressive and the cap on a story of professional redemption, but it’s not the true GOAT moment for the character and actor Ebon Moss-Bachrachon. That comes after he sees his “cousin” Carmy’s girlfriend, Clare, leave the kitchen shattered after overhearing Carmy’s explosion of anger over daring to allow himself a pinhole of light and love in the dark of his obsessive career goals.
It can be easy to see the suit and the confidence, the skill and personality on display, and look at Richie as a changed man. And in a lot of ways, he is, but he surely realizes (as we should) that work was all he had at the start of the season and it’s all he has at the end. He’s just better at the job now. This is still a guy who lost something big when he lost his wife and a daily presence in his kid’s life. Something irreplaceable. That’s a hard-learned lesson and one he’d probably like to spare others from learning, and so he and Carmy argue with fire and bile and it’s ugly, but it’s also kinda beautiful.
Nothing levels you more than a fight with the people who love you and know you. They’re unfazed by the flexes and the bullshit. They know the weak spots and they go for them over and over again. It’s not fair, it’s love and hurt combining to cause the maximum amount of pain and maybe, just maybe, the maximum impact.
Carmy is a mess through all of this, only able to see the events of that night and the last few weeks as a failure (even though Richie and the kitchen managed to pull it off without him) driven by what he has to define as selfish behavior to poison the well and scare himself away from relapsing into Clare’s arms. He’s a literal caged animal and reacts as such. Richie is, well he’s Richie, so he gives it right back, but there’s something else going on.
Richie calls Carmy by his mom’s name because he can’t “let something good happen” and Carmy calls Richie a loser and a leach –expressways to each man’s deepest insecurities. Carmy says he’s the reason Richie is able to support his kid and Richie gets right back to the point of his argument by saying, “At least I’ve got a kid, you don’t have shit!” It’s mutually assured destruction with the red buttons getting smashed by each side. But Richie stands in. He takes it, repeating, “I fucking love you” near the end.
Richie’s willing to take everything Carmy has if it means he might get through to his cousin because that’s what you do when you love someone — you stand in and you try to tell them if they’re about to step on a rake. And Carmy is stepping on a rake, as he seems to realize later when he plays back Clare’s voicemail.
That Richie is able to take all these blows without throwing up his hands and walking away, wounded and pissed off, is the true demonstration of all the character has accomplished this season. He knows who he is and what he’s about as sure as he knows everything he’s lost and what he’s trying to hold onto — his purpose, his kid, his family, which includes Carmy and everyone at The Bear. Forget why he’s in Van Halen, he’s in the band, the band needs him, and he wants to stay.
