I Don't Call Her Sugar: An Ode to Natalie Berzatto
My love letter to The Bear pt. 2, except it's actually a post about Nat.
I did not forget about season three of The Bear! My previous post on the show (which you can check out here), was a reflection done with the distance of a year away from these characters. Now it’s been over a month since the third season premiered, and to be honest, I watched the entire season over a two-day frenzy, and I feel like my feelings have settled and my thoughts have solidified. Natalie is the best. This post is about her.
As always, spoilers!
xo,
Solah
The story of Natalie’s nickname has gnawed a hole into my stomach since season two’s “Fishes”.
In a different family, with a different mother and a different daughter, maybe the nickname and its origin story is a cute reminder of a funny mistake and a sweet family memory. One that brings them together and diffuses any anger and tension from life and age that can surface as kids grow up and parents get older. In a different world, it was a silly mistake a young Natalie made one Sunday evening that aged into a nostalgic story to recall or recount at dinner parties, garnering laughs and eye-rolls and a warm shared history that connects everyone.
But they are not those people. Donna is not that kind of mother. She and Natalie do not have that sort of relationship.
Instead, the nickname is insidious in its cuteness and ubiquity amongst their friends and family. I always thought they called her “Sugar” because Natalie was the sweetest Berzatto to be around.
I was nauseated by the actual story, one that seemed too cruel to be true, but must have been from the horrified expression on Nat’s face.
I know she’s not real, but from that moment, I vowed to always refer to her as Natalie or Nat. Never “Sugar”.
Natalie Berzatto, The Woman You Are
Natalie is the only Berzatto sibling who’s put in the long, frustrating, sometimes mind-numbing and constantly uncomfortable work of trying to heal her childhood trauma. She goes to Alcoholics Anonymous, she has the pamphlets, she’s read all the books, and she found a career in banking away from her family’s chaos in their home kitchen and at The Beef. She also found and built a relationship—a family—with Pete.
Pete is openly affectionate and doesn’t get angry the way the Berzattos get angry. Her family constantly rags on him and openly dislikes him. But Nat loves him and she marries him despite the general disapproval of Pete and his “softness” and yuppy background. He’s not “hard’ the way the Berzattos et al are, not part of their downtown Chicago Boys Club, and that’s key.
There’s a moment between Natalie and Richie in which Richie is talking about this zen garden that the film director William Friedkin visited:
RICHIE: …Slowly, he began to realise—
NATALIE: —Yeah. That the rocks are people. And we’re all separated.
RICHIE: Yeah.
NATALIE: Yeah.
RICHIE: Fucking yeah. Exactly. And that this garden is, in fact, an illustration of human nature, and how we are, all of us, alone in this world. How did you know that?
NATALIE: Pete. He’s a Friedkin fan.
RICHIE: Yeah. Well, you know, his movies work on several levels. I’m gonna go there someday.
NATALIE: You should take Pete.
Everything about who Nat and Pete are for each other is easy to read in this short conversation that Pete isn’t even a part of. The way Natalie smiles when she mentions Pete as her source of film knowledge is sweet and it says everything about how she feels about him and how he makes her feel: Safe, loved and supported.
Obviously, romantic relationships don’t save or fix you, but Pete and Nat’s dynamic is a wonderful thing that's come from all the work Nat’s done. It’s a healthy and loving relationship that likely helped give her the space required to grow beyond the limits placed on her within her childhood household.
She didn’t have the luxury of sticking her head in the sand. She’s not just Donna’s kid, she’s her only daughter: The only daughter with a golden child older brother and a much younger baby brother. In classic eldest-daughter fashion, she was the one left to pick up the pieces. She co-signed on Mikey’s loan. She’s the one who called Carmy after their brother committed suicide. She’s the one who stood by and stood watch, stepping in when she needed to, every time.
At her core, Natalie is a caring, loving person. Growing up a Berzatto means she has thick skin and a practical, straightforward sensibility, but she’s sensitive and incredibly considerate. This is best exemplified in the newest season in episode four.
There was something special in that scene between Marcus and Natalie. Nat is lying on the bench, Marcus stooped over low, their voices just above a whisper. It's one of the few moments of genuine stillness in the show. As Nat’s whole body ached, sharp enough to put her on her side, Marcus told her about something beautiful. And she saw it. She was right there with him and they saw it together.
Natalie’s always standing watch. While she’s been freaking out about how to be a good mother, she’s shown us over and over that every part of who she is, parts borne of both the good and the bad in her life, will make her a great mom. She is going to love that kid exactly the way she needs.
A Birth and a Hesitantly Optimistic New Start: S03E08, “Ice Chips”
I knew Natalie was going to give birth this season, I just wasn’t sure it would be the focus of an episode or that we would have an episode centred around Natalie at all. It ended up being my favourite episode of the season and the buildup to the episode sets the perfect storm.
The restaurant isn’t profitable, despite being packed week after week and the stress is mounting. Pete is away on a work trip Nat insisted he should still go on, even so close to her due date. Nat only wants a moment alone and some fresh air away from the chaos of the restaurant and heads to the supply depot alone.
Of course, just as she’s loading the c-folds into her car, her water breaks and she goes into labour.
Nat tries to drive herself to the hospital while calling every possible person she can think of that she trusts with this, but nobody responds. She’s forced to reach out to the one person she's been avoiding—Her mother.
Natalie’s relationship with her mother is never going to be what she wishes it could be. But they have what they have, in that hospital room, and in some ways, it is so much more than either of them could have ever imagined. Donna is still Donna. She’s still awful and self-centred, complaining about her back and snickering at Natalie’s birth plan. But she’s also there for Natalie in a way that nobody else could have been. Donna has the stories that Natalie desperately wants to hear. She holds her through her contractions, feeds her ice chips and reassures her (in her signature Donna way) that an epidural is okay.
This is not an attempt to absolve Donna of her abusive behaviours. It is just a moment between a mother and her daughter, a serendipitous strike of bad timing and a no-phone protocol at the restaurant. The entire episode is desperately uncomfortable with the weight of their history, reinforced by the tight framing of the two-shot that dictates most of the episode.
Honestly, I spent the entire episode waiting for something to go wrong. That’s the track history that’s been set for us by Donna and it’s a fraction of what Natalie feels every time she interacts with her mother. She’s always waiting for the moment when things snap, splintering into screaming and molten turmoil. Natalie’s been burned every time and bracing for the pain is an instinctual flinch that’s nearly impossible to unlearn when it’s all you’ve known.
That’s why the quiet, hesitant optimism of this episode is monumental. The bone-deep gash between Natalie and Donna used to feel unmendable. Natalie spent most of her pregnancy dodging calls from her and avoided even telling Donna about her pregnancy because she didn’t want to deal with the baggage of Donna and their relationship during such a monumental, unknowable, and scary moment in her life. Talking to Donna meant confronting the fact that her only model of motherhood is one she is terrified of emulating.
Her fear is palpable from the beginning of her pregnancy. She is so scared that she’s gonna fuck everything up because it’s what she’s been told her whole life.
“Sugar.”
“Sug.”
“Sugar.”
Over and over, she’s reminded of messing up. But in this episode, Natalie faces Donna with everything that she’s fucked up. Donna, for once, sees her daughter’s point of view instead of dismissing it as an attack on her. And this is only one moment, one conversation after an entire lifetime of fear and anxiety, but it’s something. And even though it will never be the type of relationship she wants, it’ll never be easy, Natalie wants to have something with her mom, and this moment is (cautiously) the start.
“Nat” is Just Better
I know many of the characters within The Bear still call Natalie “Sugar”. I don’t think many of them know or too distinctly recall the origins of that nickname other than Carmy, who probably doesn’t think of what happened when he uses it. It’s likely from a long time ago when everyone was a lot younger.
Time is funny. Despite the cliché, sometimes it only compounds old wounds and makes them fester. Years of poking and prodding makes healing slow and painful. But maybe, after all these years, and all the love and affection imbued into the nickname by people who care about Natalie in an uncomplicated way, she feels differently about it. Maybe it doesn't feel so heavy and mean.
Maybe that’s all true. Maybe Natalie hears Fak call her “Sugar” and she isn’t instantly reminded of how that name came to be. Maybe what she thinks about instead is all the people who love her. But I think Nat is a better nickname anyway. A fresh start with no fucked up story to explain to her daughter one day. Just something snappy and sweet; like Carmy or Mikey, it's the type of nickname nobody thinks twice about.
Natalie Berzatto deserves the world!!!