“Jamie did this really tricky thing with her performance, which is to still be funny, it still gets scary, but there’s still some humanity.” — Christopher Storer in conversation with The LA Times (Yvonne Villarreal, 2023)
Maybe this is too personal an opinion to be definitively stated as fact, but The Bear, FX’s hit series that has swept awards seasons since it was first released on Hulu, is funny. The descriptor should be easily applied to the show, considering its status as a comedy, but there has been much debate in the years since its premiere as to whether the show is only a comedy in name, categorized as such thanks to its episodes’ 30-minute runtimes. More often than not, the show is categorized by viewers as “tense” and “exhausting,” with fans and detractors alike winded by the end of each episode (Glenn Whipp, The LA Times 2024). When awards season rears its ugly head, the show is rewarded with endless nominations and wins in the Comedy categories, and each time the internet becomes filled with the refrain “The Bear is not a comedy.” Despite fitting the runtime requirements, we have to ask after every season drops: is The Bear even funny? (John Koblin, The New York Times 2024) I believe it is, and I believe the key to the show’s balancing act comes in the form of “Fishes,” the sixth episode of its Emmy record-breaking second season (Koblin).
“Fishes” has received acclaim since its debut in 2023, including a 5-star review from Vulture writer Marah Eakin in which she also highlights the show’s exhausting nature, particularly in this episode: “‘Fishes’ is absolutely exhausting to watch. You leave it feeling drained emotionally and spiritually, not unlike the feeling so many of us get after our own combative family-holiday hangs” (Eakin). It’s spawned oral histories, interviews, and a plethora of Emmy nominations for its cast and crew — a surefire success in every sense of the word. Though the episode has garnered plenty of acclaim, it also stands as a unique episode of The Bear in that, on the surface, it looks to be the antithesis of everything the “comedy” category stands for in television. It’s over an hour long, with loads of long takes and uncomfortable close-ups, feeling (according to star Abby Elliott) “like a play,” and the word that guest star Jamie Lee Curtis most hears from fans regarding it is “triggering” (Whipp). If The Bear is so funny, where are the laughs in its most acclaimed episode?
The secret to the success of “Fishes” is that it is a perfect blend of drama and comedy in The Bear’s unique style. The show has continued to deviate from the norm of not just itself but the genre it occupies, with several episodes coming in at well over 30 minutes and, especially in its newest season, being comprised mostly of montages of a character’s past told in a non-linear fashion. With “Fishes,” the regular half-hour episode format that the second season had established is tossed aside for a Christmas Eve dinner that’s double the length of a typical episode—and feels like it.
The Feast of the Seven Fishes, an Italian Christmas Eve tradition, broils and bubbles in the kitchen of the Berzatto family, as the clan’s children, series regulars Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) and Natalie Berzatto (Abby Elliott), are joined by older brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal) outside the home for a smoke break away from the crowd. Of course, this is a flashback set five years before Carmy inherited The Beef restaurant after Mikey’s death, giving us a glimpse into the dynamic during the “most wonderful time of the year.” The siblings have a heart to heart about how to handle matriarch Donna (Jamie Lee Curtis), with Carmy dealing the first of many cutting blows in this episode to Mikey: “Kill you to pick up the phone?” The episode then establishes how it will pull off its juggling act of maintaining both its humor and its tragedy, as the siblings’ needed break ends and the three reenter the lion’s den, or, rather, the Mamma Bear’s cave. Inside, it’s quips and jokes and guest stars galore, with Uncle Lee (Bob Odenkirk) desperately trying to pass off a mini dutch oven that’s supposedly burning him. “Carol, what would you like me to do with this,” he asks, before getting the sarcastic reply from Carol (Maura Kidwell) “Bend over and I’ll show ya!” Lee does not remember Stevie (John Mulaney), who he’s met many times before, then finally passes the dish to Natalie, who delivers the final punchline — “Fuck, I don’t want to take this! It’s cold.” Quiet, intimate conversations in “Fishes” are revealed not to be the levity from the chaos, but rather the true emotional vulnerability everyone in the house fears, with the constant yelling and arguments acting as the comedic core of the episode.
The actors of The Bear have had many fans confess that the episode is relatable, with Jeremy Allen White noting “I was surprised at how relatable the episode was. I had so many people come up to me and say, ‘This was my Christmas in 2016’ or ‘That was my Thanksgiving’” (Whipp). Christmas with the Berzattos is achingly human, which is why it’s so sneakily comedic. Surely, none of this behavior or these conversations are funny in the moment for these characters, but five years later you might tell the story of your weirdo “cousins” trying to get you to invest in baseball cards, an example of the Faks (Matty Matheson as Neil and Ricky Staffieri as Ted) being used sparingly as comic relief in contrast with their overabundance in the third season. Of course, they have two perfect straight men to work off of for this running gag in Jimmy (Oliver Platt) and Stevie, who both listen to the whole spiel of $500 becoming $1500… “within a couple months,” with varying responses. Jimmy first asks how many Faks there could possibly be, then feigns excitement over a Mickey Morandini, then finally (in rule of threes fashion), hands his drink to Ted, then slaps him: “Stupidest fuckin’ idea I ever heard. Merry Christmas.” Stevie, meanwhile, is not convinced by the pitch but still promises $500 because “whatever you do with that is going to be very interesting to me.” Either way, Jimmy and Stevie have something to laugh about come next Christmas.
Outside of explicitly comic relief scenes, the episode maintains a kinetic comedic energy in every loud corner of the house. The first time we see Donna, her kitchen is a mess, her cigarette never leaves her sight, and she just has to know if Stevie, cousin Michelle’s (Sarah Paulson) partner, is gay. Carmy enters her kitchen and thus her flustered mind, caught between two conversations about the seven fishes and Stevie, neither providing clear answers. As the episode unfolds, Donna loses herself completely, going from kissing Jimmy on the cheek when he asks “Oh my God, what smells so good? Oh my God, is it you?” with a coy attitude, to grabbing Natalie by the chin and threatening to shoot herself because “I don’t think anyone would fucking miss me.” But, like Storer said, Curtis is not just scary and not just funny in the part, but human. The chaos of the kitchen is of her own making, and yet it’s the only place where she can make jokes or admonish her children the same way all mothers do. When Carmy says the quiet part out loud in the kitchen, “This is why I didn’t want to come home,” the boo’s it elicits are equally matched by Mikey and Donna demanding he “just say the words.” The words? “I love you,” uttered quietly and with a hint of guilt, the kind of delivery that would make you laugh at your own brother and laugh with your mother.
Each moment away from the storm, however, reveals the underlying sadness in each core member of the family. Cousin Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and his now ex-wife Tiffany (Gillian Jacobs), pregnant in the episode, hide away for a bit thanks to her morning sickness, allowing them the true freedom to love gently. Richie is a character we’d seen, up to that point, being needlessly aggressive and angry at the world, ready to fight anyone. Here, he’s afraid to lean on Tiffany, fearing he might hurt the baby, unwilling to let any harm or stress come to her. Tiffany kisses him over and over again, nurturing who she thinks is the love of her life, and before he leaves to reenter the storm downstairs, they share a wordless, loving exchange of goofy faces with their tongues out — something they passed on to their daughter. Richie then asks Jimmy for, no doubt, a job related to the mob business, lamenting his “potential” (that we come to realize he genuinely does have). It’s not the kind of admission he could make in front of more than one person. Later, Carmy finds Mikey in a closet while looking for saltines and gives him a Christmas present early — the same sketch of the restaurant now known as The Bear. They’re honest in their love, and all the digs about being “too fancy” or having 100 failed businesses are brushed aside, tears falling from Mikey’s face when he’s alone. As Jon Bernthal puts it, “Mikey absolutely knows where he’s headed and he’s horrified. He knows he can’t stop the train at this point. What a tragic thing to realize. ‘I’m doomed’” (Whipp). There’s no comedy to distract our main cast from their real problems and feelings here.
This all culminates in a showdown at the beautiful dinner table. Lee, who continuously gets on Mikey’s nerves and eventually shuts him down for telling a story he’s told before, can’t help but keep the pressure on the eldest son. Mikey throws a fork, and it terrifies everyone. Again, this builds to the kind of moment that is horrifying in the present and will be hilarious in the future, as the entire table begs him to stop. He throws another, but with enough pleading, calms down for Stevie to say grace, chosen by the family on the grounds that he is not angry with anyone at the table. Mulaney’s performance as Stevie may seem a bit like Mulaney playing himself, but he delivers in every scene he has, with even the most mundane lines getting a laugh. His speech is heartfelt, making Donna cry at first with a smile and then a terrible, long frown, and sprinkled with droll lines (“And is he still holding the fork?” “I’m very in love with Michelle. And I’m not gay like you guys asked a lot,” and of course “May God bless us and keep us safe in the New Year, and please give Michael the strength not to throw that fork. Amen.”). It puts into perspective that more than anything, “Fishes” is about how your family makes you laugh and cry in equal measure.
For you see, God did not give Michael the strength to not throw that fork after Donna erupts in tears post-saying grace. Her sadness builds and builds, and once she exits, a long silence is punctuated by Mikey chucking that last fork at Lee, who lunges out of his chair ready for a fight. Just as dinner had finally entered a calm, demure state, it’s all destroyed again with everyone out of their seats screaming back and forth at each other. The real kicker? Donna left not to go to her bedroom, but to her car, which she crashes into the house. All eyes leave Mikey and glue themselves to the hole in the wall Donna created, with the Christmas tree tipped over and snow flying into the home. Mikey runs to her door and slams his hand on the window, begging her to come out, but Donna just laughs and laughs. The private bubble of the car is the tragedy that interrupts the chaotic comedy of the home, Donna’s laughter born out of a genuine need for help. It’s so perfectly The Bear — caught in the middle of the worst day of your life that feels so catastrophic you can’t help but laugh.
Biography
Megan Robinson is a writer and editor based in New Jersey. She earned her bachelor’s degree in Culture and Communication at Ithaca College, with a concentration in film and media studies. Her work often explores film through a feminist lens, with particular focus on the reinforcement or subversion of gender roles within a text. She works as a staff writer for the websites Film Cred and MovieJawn, covering festivals such as the Chattanooga Film Festival, the Slamdance Film Festival, and the Tribeca Film Festival. You can find more of her work on Film Daze, Flip Screen, Polyester and more.
