The Bear is purposefully loud. There’s hardly a moment to breathe as characters yell and yap over each other, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Carmy’s (Jeremy Allen White) and Richie’s (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) fights drown out the noise of utensils in a very busy kitchen. Words like “hands,” “yes, Chef” and “behind” are delivered at a high volume. And chances are you’re still reeling from the effective commotion of season two’s “Fishes.” Pandemonium has always been a dominant tool for The Bear to elevate anxiety, so it’s startling to see it relatively absent in season three’s premiere episode.
Don’t worry, “Tomorrow” is still plenty disorienting as it jumps through Carmy’s intricate memories. He’s physically present at the restaurant, rearranging flowers, cleaning up, apologizing to Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) for the refrigerator fiasco, and making a list of “Non-Negotiables.” But his mind swivels across time on hurdles and events that have shaped his life. Good or bad, he’s unable to let these moments go. To spur this disquieting notion, the show doesn’t use catchy needle drops or piercing conversations for a change. Instead, it scores it with Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ expanded “Together,” playing consistently, shifting in tempo as we’re pushed further into Carmy’s state of mind. With it, The Bear continues to successfully reinvent itself. Who would’ve thought a mostly dialogue-less episode of this FX series would speak volumes?
The track by Reznor and Ross, whose propulsive Challengers score is making waves right now, transports us straight into Carmy’s mental torment. The Nine Inch Nail members prove yet again that their music, when used correctly, can deepen our understanding of a character and story. Obviously, their work has accomplished this before on everything from David Fincher’s films to HBO’s Watchmen. “Tomorrow” offers precise glimpses into Carmy’s happier times in Copenhagen or when he’s focused on cooking, bolstered with soft rhythms.
These get increasingly scratchy when flashes of Claire (Molly Gordon) infiltrate his head. Or when Joel McHale shows up to whisper “Fuck you” to his mentee. Whether it crescendos or drops, the music is as relentless as the impressions he is holding onto for dear life. (Shoutout to editor Joanna Naugle for piecing these disparate aspects of his psyche together beautifully).
Another advantage of using the instrumental is that it lets “Tomorrow” focus on every day’s minutiae. Episode director Christopher Storer opens it with deliberately crisp sounds like a stove turning on, birds chirping over the calm swells of Lake Michigan, and Chicago’s skyline at the crack of dawn. It sets the stage nicely for what to expect in the next 30 minutes: An eerie quietness because life itself fades into the background for Carmy.
Since the usual chaos is amiss, everything else The Bear depicts here feels heightened and hypnotic—a knife clanking on a chopping board, water boiling, sauces being stirred in a pot, Carmy pouring salt on his food. Reznor and Ross’ work blends into all these details seamlessly. The ambient music only halts when Carmy finds out about Mikey’s (Jon Bernthal) death in the past and when Marcus (Lionel Boyce) is grieving his mother in the present. And the heaviness of those incidents is rendered more poignant by this choice.
The half-hour montage set to “Tomorrow” is a total standout because it’s so distinct from anything else The Bear has done musically up to this point. It’s refreshing that the show’s powers-that-be let series creator Storer and EP Josh Senior, who are also the show’s music supervisors, go for such a big sonic swing to set the table for season three. Because, hey, if Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” can be Richie’s unlikely anthem, then Reznor and Ross’ moody, atmospheric vibes can certainly tell us a a hell of a lot about Carmy’s past, present, and future.