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“The Bear” Season 3 Review: Moments Amidst Lost Focus

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The Bear Season 3 Review Moments Amidst Lost Focus

The following piece evaluates Season 3 of “The Bear.” While major plot developments — including guest stars — have been withheld to preserve the viewing experience, the network has requested spoiler warnings on all reviews.

The second, much-improved season of “The Bear” was defined by a sense of momentum. Its 10 episodes were transitional in a literal sense, taking the FX half-hour from the closure of a family-owned Italian beef shop in Chicago’s River North to the opening of a fine dining concept in the same space.

Staff members developed dishes, supervised build-out and acquired skills with a singular purpose in mind, culminating in a hectic friends-and-family service that saw chef Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) freak out in a freezer.

Season 3 — the first to air after the series swept the comedy categories at this year’s Emmys, cementing its growth from breakout hit to incumbent juggernaut — lacks a similar focus.

The Beef has become The Bear; the obvious follow-up question is, what now? Under creator Christopher Storer’s frenetic, dissonant direction, Season 1 captured the grinding stress of an everyday kitchen on the constant verge of chaos. With the cast reunited in the new restaurant, Season 3 does the same for hospitality’s upper echelon, where employees wage a swanlike struggle to deliver a seamless experience to diners despite razor-thin profits and sky-high overhead.

Paired with the creative latitude afforded by its success, this blank slate affords “The Bear” opportunity and risk in equal measure. At times, the absence of a uniting goal allows Storer and co-showrunner Joanna Calo to continue adding texture to the monotony of restaurant life.

In a more heartening counterweight to last year’s “Seven Fishes,” this season’s stand-alone flashback gives insight into how sous chef Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) came to join the team, and Carmy’s sister Natalie (Abby Elliott) gets a long-overdue spotlight when she goes into labor with her first child.

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Cameos and Stunt Casting in The Bear Season 3

But not all detours this season are as effective, and without a fixed destination, the main narrative itself can get bogged down with repetition and stunt casting before the season ends with most storylines unresolved.

The Bear” still finds moments of transcendence in its characters’ pursuit of professional excellence and personal growth, yet the show remains more fallible than its rapturous acclaim may imply.

At least the premiere front-loads the season’s weak points, giving viewers an accurate indication of what’s to come. After Carmy’s meltdown, which saw him lash out at his “cousin” turned general manager Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and accidentally alienate his girlfriend Claire (Molly Gordon), the high-strung chef spins out entirely. For the episode’s 37-minute duration, we remain largely in Carmy’s roving mind.

He ricochets among his memories, from his New York City stint under a tyrannical boss (Joel McHale) to happier times, either with Claire or in less hostile work environments.

The results can be lyrical and lovely; who doesn’t appreciate a glimpse of Copenhagen in warm weather, or a chance to see Olivia Colman’s Chef Terry again? It also tells us nothing we don’t already know, making room for cameos by a slew of culinary legends at the expense of moving the story forward. The structure would work for an extended cold open to establish Carmy’s mood; stretched to an entire episode, it’s an overindulgence. To quote Terry’s mantra, every second counts.

Back in the present tense, Carmy throws himself into the single-minded pursuit of perfection with complete disregard for everyone around him. When her brother insists on changing the menu every day, Natalie — now running the business side — balks at the food waste involved in R&D, and Richie rightfully points out the service side needs to be kept in the loop.

Worst of all, chef de cuisine Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) is quietly devastated to watch her onetime collaborator make unilateral edits to the dishes they labored over together. No wonder she can’t bring herself to sign a partnership agreement with a man who won’t treat her like a true partner.

“The Bear” wants to explore how cycles of abuse take hold in pressure cookers like professional kitchens, turning Carmy into the same kind of controlling egomaniac that’s rendered him an anxious mess. But opening the season by centering him so completely doesn’t set “The Bear” up to put Carmy in perspective with necessary distance. It also undoes some of last season’s work to broaden the show into a true ensemble.

There are moments where Syd puts Carmy in check. They’re also fleeting, and many, many montages illustrating Carmy’s state of mind end up crowding out more compelling arcs like pastry chef Marcus’ (Lionel Boyce) attempt to channel grief over the loss of his mother into his food.

Claire finally gets a handful of solo scenes that highlight her work as a physician, but this season, she’s reduced to what she’s always felt like, even as a more active presence: an abstract figure for Carmy to reminisce about and idealize from afar. As “The Bear” tries to highlight Carmy’s faults, like treating other human beings as props in his ongoing psychodrama, it ends up reproducing them.

This blurred line between commenting on a dynamic and perpetuating it extends elsewhere. In some ways, the season’s sometimes aimless feeling is part of its purpose. Even, and perhaps especially, at successful operations, restaurant life is a grueling hamster wheel.

There’s always another fire to put out, another benchmark to achieve. (Richie tells his ex-wife and co-parent that she can visit the restaurant when it’s “perfect,” an impossible aim; Carmy wants a Michelin star, though if The Bear got one, he’d just have to work to maintain it.) The only way out is to quit, as one of Carmy’s mentors opts to in a choice that looms over the season.

Yet maintenance and longevity are less compelling incentives than crossing the finish line of construction. Without an off-ramp in sight, the staff of “The Bear” are left to confront the problems opening didn’t solve, and in fact may exacerbate. Richie is still figuring out how to be a good dad; Sydney is still finding her voice as an artist and leader; Carmy is still a grown man who can’t text a girl he likes.

As in Season 1, the sense of stasis is true to life — and frustrating to watch. Without a cathartic climax, even supposed reprieves like deploying the Fak brothers (Matty Matheson and Ricky Staffieri) for comic relief quickly wear thin.

In Season 3, “The Bear” feels torn between two identities: a voice for the world of restaurants at large, and a specific story about a specific set of characters. As the culture’s most zeitgeist-y platform for the industry, there’s a sense of responsibility in how “The Bear” foregrounds the sentimental case for feeding others as a calling, as well as the price paid by those who pursue it.

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Understandably, if less nobly, the show also seems eager to work the connections its popularity affords. Last season’s chef cameos were largely drawn from local Chicago spots, a tradition continued this year by Kasama’s Genie Kwon. Season 3 expands the talent pool to some of the food world’s leading luminaries, several of whom get extended monologues laying out their guiding philosophies.

At a certain point, such flourishes start to cross the line from enhancing the authenticity of “The Bear” to hindering its core mission. The finale, in particular, affords so much screen time to these visiting dignitaries that most protagonists get short shrift, just as the show should be planting the seeds for next season or at least tying off the one we’ve just watched.

When Tina has a heart-to-heart with Carmy’s brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal), whose suicide prompted Carmy’s return to the Midwest, a precisely rendered conversation between two driven, wounded human beings abruptly turns into a broad sermon on why people choose to work in restaurants. As “The Bear” has continued, it’s developed the Berzatto family dysfunction — and its collateral damage to the siblings’ colleagues — enough that there’s no need to rely on such generalizations.

The Berzatto Family and The Bear’s Core Mission

For “The Bear,” demonstrating its bona fides is a flex; understanding it doesn’t need them anymore would be a true sign of confidence.

The following piece evaluates Season 3 of “The Bear.” While major plot developments — including guest stars — have been withheld to preserve the viewing experience, the network has requested spoiler warnings on all reviews.

The second, much-improved season of “The Bear” was defined by a sense of momentum. Its 10 episodes were transitional in a literal sense, taking the FX half-hour from the closure of a family-owned Italian beef shop in Chicago’s River North to the opening of a fine dining concept in the same space. Staff members developed dishes, supervised build-out and acquired skills with a singular purpose in mind, culminating in a hectic friends-and-family service that saw chef Carmy Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White) freak out in a freezer.

Season 3 — the first to air after the series swept the comedy categories at this year’s Emmys, cementing its growth from breakout hit to incumbent juggernaut — lacks a similar focus. The Beef has become The Bear; the obvious follow-up question is, what now?

Under creator Christopher Storer’s frenetic, dissonant direction, Season 1 captured the grinding stress of an everyday kitchen on the constant verge of chaos. With the cast reunited in the new restaurant, Season 3 does the same for hospitality’s upper echelon, where employees wage a swanlike struggle to deliver a seamless experience to diners despite razor-thin profits and sky-high overhead.

Paired with the creative latitude afforded by its success, this blank slate affords “The Bear” opportunity and risk in equal measure. At times, the absence of a uniting goal allows Storer and co-showrunner Joanna Calo to continue adding texture to the monotony of restaurant life. In a more heartening counterweight to last year’s “Seven Fishes,” this season’s stand-alone flashback gives insight into how sous chef Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas) came to join the team, and Carmy’s sister Natalie (Abby Elliott) gets a long-overdue spotlight when she goes into labor with her first child.

But not all detours this season are as effective, and without a fixed destination, the main narrative itself can get bogged down with repetition and stunt casting before the season ends with most storylines unresolved. “The Bear” still finds moments of transcendence in its characters’ pursuit of professional excellence and personal growth, yet the show remains more fallible than its rapturous acclaim may imply.

At least the premiere front-loads the season’s weak points, giving viewers an accurate indication of what’s to come. After Carmy’s meltdown, which saw him lash out at his “cousin” turned general manager Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and accidentally alienate his girlfriend Claire (Molly Gordon), the high-strung chef spins out entirely. For the episode’s 37-minute duration, we remain largely in Carmy’s roving mind.

He ricochets among his memories, from his New York City stint under a tyrannical boss (Joel McHale) to happier times, either with Claire or in less hostile work environments.

The results can be lyrical and lovely; who doesn’t appreciate a glimpse of Copenhagen in warm weather, or a chance to see Olivia Colman’s Chef Terry again? It also tells us nothing we don’t already know, making room for cameos by a slew of culinary legends at the expense of moving the story forward. The structure would work for an extended cold open to establish Carmy’s mood; stretched to an entire episode, it’s an overindulgence. To quote Terry’s mantra, every second counts.

Back in the present tense, Carmy throws himself into the single-minded pursuit of perfection with complete disregard for everyone around him. When her brother insists on changing the menu every day, Natalie — now running the business side — balks at the food waste involved in R&D, and Richie rightfully points out the service side needs to be kept in the loop. Worst of all, chef de cuisine Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) is quietly devastated to watch her onetime collaborator make unilateral edits to the dishes they labored over together. No wonder she can’t bring herself to sign a partnership agreement with a man who won’t treat her like a true partner.

“The Bear” wants to explore how cycles of abuse take hold in pressure cookers like professional kitchens, turning Carmy into the same kind of controlling egomaniac that’s rendered him an anxious mess. But opening the season by centering him so completely doesn’t set “The Bear” up to put Carmy in perspective with necessary distance. It also undoes some of last season’s work to broaden the show into a true ensemble.

There are moments where Syd puts Carmy in check. They’re also fleeting, and many, many montages illustrating Carmy’s state of mind end up crowding out more compelling arcs like pastry chef Marcus’ (Lionel Boyce) attempt to channel grief over the loss of his mother into his food.

Claire finally gets a handful of solo scenes that highlight her work as a physician, but this season, she’s reduced to what she’s always felt like, even as a more active presence: an abstract figure for Carmy to reminisce about and idealize from afar. As “The Bear” tries to highlight Carmy’s faults, like treating other human beings as props in his ongoing psychodrama, it ends up reproducing them.

This blurred line between commenting on a dynamic and perpetuating it extends elsewhere. In some ways, the season’s sometimes aimless feeling is part of its purpose. Even, and perhaps especially, at successful operations, restaurant life is a grueling hamster wheel. There’s always another fire to put out, another benchmark to achieve. (Richie tells his ex-wife and co-parent that she can visit the restaurant when it’s “perfect,” an impossible aim; Carmy wants a Michelin star, though if The Bear got one, he’d just have to work to maintain it.) The only way out is to quit, as one of Carmy’s mentors opts to in a choice that looms over the season.

Yet maintenance and longevity are less compelling incentives than crossing the finish line of construction. Without an off-ramp in sight, the staff of “The Bear” are left to confront the problems opening didn’t solve, and in fact may exacerbate. Richie is still figuring out how to be a good dad; Sydney is still finding her voice as an artist and leader; Carmy is still a grown man who can’t text a girl he likes. As in Season 1, the sense of stasis is true to life — and frustrating to watch. Without a cathartic climax, even supposed reprieves like deploying the Fak brothers (Matty Matheson and Ricky Staffieri) for comic relief quickly wear thin.

In Season 3, “The Bear” feels torn between two identities: a voice for the world of restaurants at large, and a specific story about a specific set of characters. As the culture’s most zeitgeist-y platform for the industry, there’s a sense of responsibility in how “The Bear” foregrounds the sentimental case for feeding others as a calling, as well as the price paid by those who pursue it.

Understandably, if less nobly, the show also seems eager to work the connections its popularity affords. Last season’s chef cameos were largely drawn from local Chicago spots, a tradition continued this year by Kasama’s Genie Kwon. Season 3 expands the talent pool to some of the food world’s leading luminaries, several of whom get extended monologues laying out their guiding philosophies.

At a certain point, such flourishes start to cross the line from enhancing the authenticity of “The Bear” to hindering its core mission. The finale, in particular, affords so much screen time to these visiting dignitaries that most protagonists get short shrift, just as the show should be planting the seeds for next season or at least tying off the one we’ve just watched.

When Tina has a heart-to-heart with Carmy’s brother Mikey (Jon Bernthal), whose suicide prompted Carmy’s return to the Midwest, a precisely rendered conversation between two driven, wounded human beings abruptly turns into a broad sermon on why people choose to work in restaurants. As “The Bear” has continued, it’s developed the Berzatto family dysfunction — and its collateral damage to the siblings’ colleagues — enough that there’s no need to rely on such generalizations. For “The Bear,” demonstrating its bona fides is a flex; understanding it doesn’t need them anymore would be a true sign of confidence.

SEE ALSO: Red One” Trailer: Dwayne Johnson Helps J.K. Simmons Take Down Santa Claus in His Heist Action Comedy.

Arslan Mughal is a freelance writer for VORNews, an online platform that covers news and events across various industries. With a knack for crafting engaging content, he specializes in breaking down complex topics into easily understandable pieces.

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Shannen Doherty, ‘Beverly Hills, 90210’ Star, Dies At 53

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Shannen Doherty | AP News Image

Los Angeles — Shannen Doherty, the “Beverly Hills, 90210” star whose life and career were roiled by sickness and tabloid rumors, died at 53.

Leslie Sloane, Doherty’s spokesperson, confirmed that she died Saturday. She had breast cancer for several years.

“The beloved daughter, sister, aunt, and friend was surrounded by her loved ones, including her dog, Bowie. “The family requests privacy at this time so they can grieve in peace,” Sloane said. The news was initially published by People magazine.

Her sickness was made public in a lawsuit filed in 2015 against her former business managers, in which she claimed they mismanaged her money and let her health insurance lapse. She later disclosed detailed information about her treatment after a single mastectomy. In December 2016, she shared a snapshot of her first day of radiation, describing the therapy as “frightening” for her.

doherty

Shannen Doherty | AP news Image

Shannen Doherty, ‘Beverly Hills, 90210’ Star, Dies At 53

Doherty disclosed in February 2020 that her cancer had returned, and she was in stage four. She stated that she came out so that her medical conditions may be revealed in court. In 2018, the star filed a lawsuit against insurance company State Farm after her California home was damaged in a fire.

Doherty was born in Memphis, Tennessee, and relocated to Los Angeles with her family when she was seven. Within a few years, she became an actor.

“It was completely my decision,” she told The Associated Press in a 1994 interview. “My parents never forced me into anything. They support me. It wouldn’t matter if I were a professional soccer player; they’d be just as supportive and loving.”

She worked continuously as a child star on TV shows such as “Little House on the Prairie,” where she played Jenny Wilder. As a teenager, she detoured to the big screen with “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” (1985) and “Heathers.”

In 1990, the doe-eyed, dark-haired actress scored her breakout role as Brenda Walsh in producer Aaron Spelling’s blockbuster teenage melodrama set in wealthy Beverly Hills. She and Brenda’s twin brother, Jason Priestley’s Brandon, were out of their element in the Midwest.

However, Doherty’s celebrity came with media scrutiny and allegations of outbursts, drunkenness, and impulsiveness, the last most notably following a brief marriage to George Hamilton’s son.

She quit “90210” at the end of its fourth season in 1994 (the show ran until 2000), allegedly due to problems with her costars and frequent tardiness.

However, in a 1994 Associated Press interview, Doherty portrayed her life as calm.

“It must be, if you pick up the Enquirer and find the only thing they can write about me is that I installed a pay phone next to my house and was seen at Stroud’s (a discount bed-and-bath chain) buying $1,400 worth of bed linens and wouldn’t go to an expensive store,” according to her. “It must be calm if they’re pulling that stuff out of their heads.”

Three years later, in 1997, a Beverly Hills Municipal Court judge sentenced Doherty to anger-management training after she allegedly smashed a beer bottle against a man’s window during a fight. In another legal fight, she pled no contest to a 2001 drunken driving charge and was sentenced to five days in a work-release program.

Doherty reconnected with Spelling in 1998 when he cast her as Prue Halliwell in “Charmed.” In an AP interview that year, the actress professed regret for her past.

“I did bring a lot of it on myself,” Doherty admitted. “I don’t believe I can point fingers and say, ‘Oh, you’re to blame.'” I don’t do this with myself, either. “Because I was still growing up.”

Doherty also stated that the media had “grotesquely misconstrued” her personality.

Spelling stated that their relationship was never as bad as others made it appear.

“We had a few bumps along the road, but golly, who doesn’t?” recalled Spelling, who died in 2006. “Everything Shannen did was blown out of proportion by the rag sheets.”

From 1998 until 2001, Doherty starred in “Charmed” alongside Holly Marie Combs and Alyssa Milano, after which Rose McGowan replaced her character. Seven years later, she starred in the “90210” sequel series alongside original series star Jennie Garth and competed in “Dancing with the Stars” in 2010. She also worked on the third “Beverly Hills, 90210” revival, “BH90210,” a meta take on the program that ran for one season in 2019.

doherty

Shannen Doherty | AP News Image

Shannen Doherty, ‘Beverly Hills, 90210’ Star, Dies At 53

Doherty struggled to regain her “Beverly Hills, 90210” star status, although she did work in big-screen pictures like “Mallrats” and “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back,” as well as TV movies like “A Burning Passion: The Margaret Mitchell Story,” in which she played the author of “Gone with the Wind.” The nadir was “Blindfold: Acts of Obsession,” an erotic thriller starring Judd Nelson.

Doherty’s case against her former business managers was settled in 2016. She was honest about the toll cancer was taking on her. In an August 2016 interview with “Entertainment Tonight,” she discussed her anxieties and provided photographs of her baldness after treatment.

“The unknown is always the scariest part,” she told me. “Will the chemo work? “Is the radiation going to work?” she asked. “Pain is manageable, you know, living without a breast is manageable; it’s the worry of your future and how your future is going to affect the people that you love.”

Doherty married Rick Salomon in 2002 after the latter was involved in a sex tape issue with Paris Hilton. The marriage was annulled within a year. In 2011, Doherty married photographer Kurt Iswarienko. She filed for divorce in April 2023.

SOURCE | AP

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Griff Has Opened For Some Of Pop’s Biggest Stars. Now She Has A Debut Album Of Her Own To Tour

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Griff

Griff, a British singer-songwriter, has had an undeniably successful career. Less than two years after releasing her first track and clearing her A-level examinations, she received the Brit Award for Rising Star. Then she opened for Dua Lipa. Then, Ed Sheeran. Then Coldplay. Then, Taylor Swift.

Between gigs, solo shows, and music releases, she worked on the tracks for her debut album, “Vertigo,” which is out today.

“The usual steps that you take as a new artist have been a bit, like, upside-down,” the 23-year-old, who goes by Sarah Faith Griffiths, told The Associated Press in an interview. “An album is such a step hitting the ground, and it’s such a milestone I’ve always wanted to get to.”

Griff Has Opened For Some Of Pop’s Biggest Stars. Now She Has A Debut Album Of Her Own To Tour

According to her, this moment feels like the start of her career. The immersive pop album explores the emotions accompanying such a whirlwind and those arising from other destabilizing occurrences, such as growing up and experiencing heartache.

Griff said the inspiration for the project came, “funnily enough,” while navigating a spiral staircase in one of the residences she wrote the record in — in this case, a cottage owned by singer and songwriter Imogen Heap. She claimed the physical truth of the encounter immediately translated into an emotional counterpart, which has stayed with her ever since.

“That was just a very real, tangible feeling that I have had, and still have, at this stage in my life,” she told me.

“Tears For Fun” and “Miss Me Too” explore that dizzying sensation through multilayer productions inspired by the large-scale locations she has previously played in. “Astronaut” incorporates piano by Coldplay’s Chris Martin, who inspired Griff to alter an early form of the song into a ballad. “You said you needed space, go on then, astronaut,” she admits in her characteristic belt, her grounded demeanor lending weight to her charges.

“It’s almost like I’m a little greedy with emotions when it comes to songs,” she added, explaining her desire to combine heartbreaking words with catchy, optimistic arrangements. “For me, music is all about moving people and triggering emotion.”

According to her, the catharsis is shared by both the artist and the listeners, which Martin has encouraged.

“He really believes that as creatives and writers, we’re just kind of vessels, and creativity will flow through us and ideas will find their way to the right people,” according to her. “And I think that kind of philosophy is really reassuring.”

Griff succeeds in her aim not only through her sound but also through the graphics she and her crew create. Ever since the album’s first track was released, she has worn a spiral in her hair. Song visualizers envision her dancing in billowing textiles on the same spiral created in sand. Like her pop forefathers, she understands that an album “era” is a multimedia undertaking.

However, the more casual glances of Griff, the creative, may disclose far more about her inner life. In preparation for her gig opening for a night of Swift’s Eras Tour in London, she chronicled the process of making a garment out of blue and white cloth inspired by a line from Swift’s song “But Daddy I Love Him.”

“I was always draping bedsheets around myself,” she recalled from her upbringing. “I was the only female – I have two elder brothers and a lot of foster siblings — so I entertained myself by dressing up. “I think I just enjoy making things.”

Griff Has Opened For Some Of Pop’s Biggest Stars. Now She Has A Debut Album Of Her Own To Tour

Swift stated on stage: “This girl, she is so creative on every single level.”

Griff, true to her enthusiasm, says she is eager to continue producing.

“To be totally honest, I feel excited to get back in the studio,” she told me. “I feel like I’ve got a lot more to give.”

SOURCE | AP

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MrBeast to Gives Away 10 Tesla Cybertrucks in Latest YouTube Challenge

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MrBeast to Gives Away 10 Tesla Cybertrucks in Latest YouTube Challenge

(CTN News) – MrBeast, a YouTube celebrity known for his extravagant challenges and generous giveaways, revealed his latest video on Saturday, in which he plans to give away ten Tesla Cybertruck units.

The video shows 50 YouTube personalities competing for a $1 million reward by attempting to stay within a specific region, with the last person standing being proclaimed the winner.

In an initial challenge, MrBeast allowed players to leave the competition area to take a free-throw basketball shot. Successful entrants would win a Cybertruck for one of their subscribers and be eligible to re-enter the competition.

Those who missed their shot were eliminated. While many contestants failed, a handful secured a Cybertruck for their top subscribers.

The complete film is available on MrBeast YouTube account, where viewers can see the competition unfold. It’s unclear whether all ten Cybertrucks were given away during the video challenge.

Tesla CEO Elon Musk responded to the video on the social networking platform X, formerly known as Twitter, with the word “cool.”

This isn’t MrBeast’s first partnership with Tesla products. In January, he showed a Model X in one of his films and discussed it with Elon Musk, which resulted in the video being put on the X platform.

The Tesla Cybertruck has recently gained traction, becoming the best-selling vehicle in the United States, and it was priced above $100,000 in June.

The electric truck also participated in the Goodwood Festival of Speed hill climb. Tesla has updated Cybertruck drive units to improve efficiency and issued voluntary recalls for wiper motor and trunk bed trim issues.

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