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Chicago Tribune
20-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Review: ‘Eephus' is a fond farewell to a small-town baseball field in its last inning
'Is this how it's gonna end?' By the time one of the small-town, middle-aged baseball players in director Carson Lund's disarming debut feature 'Eephus' says that line, it's very late, very dark and, for the old baseball field — Soldier's Field by name, a little smaller than Chicago's Soldier Field — it's the final inning before the ballfield is to be razed to make way for a new middle school. Places come; places go. Every human being deals with loss differently. 'Eephus' acknowledges that, but it's a sweet, sidewinding paradox of a sports movie: sentimental in a quietly unsentimental and offhandedly comic fashion. Lund's film confines the movie almost entirely to the nearly departed ballfield, before, during and after its final game. Yet it doesn't feel confining. Enough happens on or near any baseball diamond to get a movie out of it, if the right filmmakers are at the plate. Lund and cinematographer Greg Tango shoot and light 'Eephus' in grandly scaled digital widescreen imagery, in daylight, sunset hours and the cloak of night, and that too is a useful paradox. Not much happens, but every shot is composed like a widescreen mini-epic of downtime and hangtime, without much happening or any earnest revelations to solemnize things. We're hanging with the last remaining players on two amateur league rivals, the Riverdogs (wearing blue) and Adler's Paint (in red). The movie takes its title for the unfashionable floater of a nearly unhittable pitch, long, high and vexing. 'Stays in the air forever,' one player complains, adding: 'You get bored watching it.' The plot of 'Eephus' can be taken care of quickly, because there isn't one. We get to know the players a little, simply by overhearing casual, back-and-forth observations and insults and banter. Some of them will truly, madly, deeply miss this place, and playing there. Others, less so; a couple of these men have been hanging on to this tradition, and their time away from other things, family or otherwise, with a certain amount of guilt attached. My favorite character in 'Eephus' is an observer, not a player: Franny, a twitchy charmer and die-hard Soldier's Field regular played by Cliff Blake in a superb casting stroke. Franny's devoted to careful, even obsessive statistical reporting on each new set of innings. He has been for most of his many decades. Setting up his folding table for this final match-up, we see a man in his element. It's merely a bonus when Blake re-creates the most famous line from the 1942 Lou Gehrig biopic 'Pride of the Yankees,' taken from Gehrig's moving 1939 pronouncement that he's 'the luckiest man on the face of the earth.' This makes 'Eephus' sound like pure corn, which it isn't. Its wit beams on and off a little, but it's nice and dry. The script, co-written by Michael Basta, Nate Fisher and director Lund, has the simplest of structures and while there are complications and demi-crises, on the field and off, it's all a part of the fabric. The innings come and go, as does the sound of a local radio personality (the movie's set in the 1990s, more or less) voiced by legendary documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman. 'Is this how it's gonna end?' The line comes near the end, though early in the movie, one character says the old ballfield will go 'the way of the Hindenburg,' which sounds pretty grandiose. When the end arrives — and I sorely wish the final shot was the terrific image of Franny, filmed from behind, watching the players drive off for the last time — the feelings and memories in progress weigh more than you'd expect. 'Eephus' — 3 stars (out of 4) No MPA rating (some coarse language) How to watch: Premieres March 21 at the Music Box Theatre, 3733 N. Southport Ave.
Atlantic
14-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
Is an Ode to the Beauty of Baseball
An eephus pitch is one of baseball's many pieces of niche ephemera. It's a weird trick throw that's barely ever glimpsed in the professional game—an arcing lob of the ball, traveling at half the speed or less than a normal pitch; it exists only to catch batters off guard. In the director Carson Lund's beguiling debut film, also called Eephus, a player named Merritt Nettles (played by Nate Fisher) specializes in tossing the pitch and rhapsodizes about its time-stopping sorcery: 'It's kinda like baseball. I'm looking around for something to happen—poof, the game's over.' If the previous paragraph made your eyes glaze over, you may not be the movie's intended audience. But to me, these details are pure poetry, and so is Eephus. The plot-free hangout flick quietly has a ton to say about baseball's eternal appeal, even as the sport weathers the passage of time. Set during the 1990s in Massachusetts, it follows the last recreational-league matchup between two groups of shambling, beer-guzzling baseball enthusiasts; they're clashing once more before a planned development will pave over the site. Eephus is an elegy, but with just the barest hint of sentimentality—a shrugging send-off that simultaneously cares deeply about America's pastime. The film begins with the league's sole enthusiast, Franny (Cliff Blake), settling onto the grass with his portable card table, his pocket binoculars, and his scorecard; slowly, the players begin to dribble onto the field. In red are the members of a team called Adler's Paint, and in blue are the Riverdogs. The history between the two squads is irrelevant, and there's barely any information to glean from their overheard dialogue. Instead, Lund (who also co-wrote the film's script with Fisher and Michael Basta) revels in the minor details, such as the players' many forms of inventive facial hair and their cute little practice rituals. The drama that does arise feels minor, too, such as a brief moment of panic when the Riverdogs realize that their ninth player hasn't shown up yet, which would force them to forfeit. Otherwise, Eephus 's story never goes anywhere. Even though it's clear that at least some of the actors know how to play the game, there isn't much intense activity to take in. Over and over, the viewer sees shots of players briefly crouching in anticipation of something happening (namely, the delivery of a pitch to a batter), then relaxing when it doesn't. That's the magic of baseball: blissful anticipation, with the occasional chance for real action. In lieu of narrative progression, Lund is singularly intent on generating an atmosphere that makes the viewer feel like they're perched in the bleachers. The perfectly calibrated sound design contributes to this heavily; it is expansive and plangent, with the clack of the bat and popping of the ball heard more distinctly than the yelled instructions or friendly banter from base runners. The director's attentive scene-setting helps transform Eephus into a dispatch from another era—a memory bouncing through the decades to somehow reach theaters today. The throwback vibe is further cultivated by the cast, which comes across like a cheerfully old-school collection of performers. Among them is the Boston Red Sox alum Bill 'Spaceman' Lee, one of Major League Baseball's best-known practitioners of the eephus pitch back in the 1970s, who appears in a cameo role. The rest of the actors, most of them unfamiliar names, look like they could have walked onto the set through a time tunnel; their stringy beards, craggy faces, and protruding guts recall those of the players from Lee's era. The renowned 95-year-old documentarian (and fellow Bostonian) Frederick Wiseman also joins to dispense pearls of wisdom in voice-over, dropping well-known quotations from the ball-playing greats between innings. Looking backwards feels inherent to baseball, and I mean this in the warmest manner possible. The game is like the Academy Awards or burger making: an American tradition that, in my opinion, needs little in the way of reinvention. Still, although Lund isn't going for any major tear-jerking moments, his movie invokes the melancholy sense of something important passing into the mists. None of the characters is able to use a smartphone or check social media, given the period setting, but the couple of kids sitting in the stands observe the amateur teams' particular brand of fun as if it's from the Stone Age. Lund cited the Taiwanese director Tsai Ming-liang's 2003 masterpiece, Goodbye, Dragon Inn, as an inspiration for Eephus. The comparison is apt on a surface level; Goodbye, Dragon Inn is a famous example of 'slow cinema' set in a soon-to-be-closed Taipei theater—an antiquated edifice not unlike an aging ballpark. The film discursively follows some of the picture house's regulars as they attend its last showtime. Beyond their similar presentations, it's also Eephus 's kindred spirit thematically: Each one is a quirky ode to a particular hobby that is still extant in our life, albeit becoming something of a relic. Eephus succeeds as a beautiful portrait of a specific pastime. It's also, delightfully, a low-stakes hang with some dudes swigging Narragansetts—much like baseball itself.
Boston Globe
13-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Boston Globe
‘Eephus' is a good-natured hangout movie about one final ball game at a beloved field
When I saw 'Eephus' at the New York Film Festival last year, I was on the fence about it. Readers know I'm a huge baseball fan, but I was worn out by the end of the movie. I had a better time watching the same actors play a real live baseball game a few days later, Advertisement Players from Adler's Paint in "Eephus." From left: Jeff Saint Dic, David Torres Jr., Theodore Bouloukos, Ethan Ward, John R. Smith Jr., and Brendan "Crash" Burt. Music Box Films With their diet of multiple movies per day, film festivals can be exhausting. While I trust my reactions to films I either love or hate, it's the movies that lurk on the thin line between a positive and negative review that I always want to revisit when they finally get a general release date. Such is the case with 'Eephus,' because I honestly couldn't remember anything I actively disliked about the film other than the fact that it felt a bit too dragged out by the end. So, I went to see it again before filing this review. I didn't expect my opinion to change, to be honest; I thought this was going to remain a ★★½ review. But somehow, the movie didn't overstay its welcome this time, and I enjoyed it more. Lund has crafted a good-natured hangout movie that tells the story of one final game at Soldiers Field, a New Hampshire-set diamond slated for demolition the following day. (The film was shot in Douglas, Mass.) The game lasts into the night, on a field with no lights. We can hardly see what's going on by then, which is kind of funny. But it shows the commitment of the film's characters, a motley crew of men of varying ages playing on two sponsored teams, Adler's Paint and the Riverdogs. They've convened on Oct. 16 — a Sunday — to play the final game of the final season of an adult competitive league that's been around for quite some time. Advertisement Little mini-dramas lazily unfold. One team only has eight players, because one of the guys has something else to do. And it's clear that Father Time has been encroaching on the bodies of the older men. 'The worst part of this sport is the running,' we're told, and though everyone does their best to hustle, it's obvious that their best days are mere memories now. The film has a raggedy pace not unlike the runners who succeed or fail to score. Still, these guys are here to play, and they take it seriously. They have returned to Soldiers Field every year like the swallows return to Capistrano; it's more by instinct and routine than conscious thought. The film quietly contemplates the minor tragedy of losing such a familiar and comforting location. There are so many characters here it's hard to keep them straight. I don't think the film expects you too, either. You'll recognize everyone, and there are some standouts like grumpy Adler's Paint coach Ed (Keith William Richards), rival Riverdogs coach Graham (Stephen Radochia), a sincere player named Cooper (Conner Marx), and beer-loving Riverdog Troy (David Pridemore). Your beloved Red Sox even get a shoutout, represented by Bill 'Spaceman' Lee, a purveyor of the weird, slow pitch that gives the film its title. 'Uncut Gems''s Wayne Diamond also has a cameo. Cliff Blake in "Eephus." Music Box Films Additionally, the voice of documentarian Frederick Wiseman is heard every so often on the soundtrack, and the game itself is scored by actor Cliff Blake, who sits behind what looks like a TV tray of sorts, armed with his book of stats. When I attended the baseball game in Manhattan, I went to Blake to check the score. It was as if I'd walked into the movie. Advertisement That's probably the best way to describe 'Eephus' — watching it feels as if you are in the bleachers of Soldiers Field. ★★★ EEPHUS Written and directed by Carson Lund. Starring Cliff Blake, Conner Marx, Keith William Richards, David Pridemore, Stephen Radochia, Bill 'Spaceman' Lee, Wayne Diamond, Frederick Wiseman. At the Coolidge, Somerville Theatre, Dedham Community Theater. 98 min. Unrated (salty language, as per a baseball game) Odie Henderson is the Boston Globe's film critic.
Gulf Today
12-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Gulf Today
‘Eephus' is the best baseball movie since ‘Moneyball'
In Carson Lund's 'Eephus,' two teams — the Riverdogs and Adler's Paint — gather on a neighbourhood field for a baseball game. The leaves are already starting to turn — 'It's getting late early,' as Yogi Berra said — and this is to be the final game for their adult rec league. The field is to be demolished. No one would confuse them for all-stars. A suicide squeeze unfolds in creaky slow motion. The rotund left fielder mutters 'Mother McCree' under his breath when the ball is hit in the gap. But, regardless of skill level, they all care sincerely about the game. 'Eephus,' as leisurely as a late-August double header, simply unfolds along with their game. Except to chase a foul ball or two, the movie stays within the lines of Soldier Field, the nondescript Massachusetts baseball field they're playing on sometime in the 1990s. It spans nine innings, with dugout chatter and fading light. In this slow-pitch gem of a baseball movie — a middle-aged 'Sandlot' — time is slipping away, but they're going down swinging. Money, analytics and whatever's on ESPN can sometimes cloud what sports is to most people: A refuge. 'Eephus,' in that way, is a change-up of a baseball movie, an elegiac ode to the humbler weekend warriors who are driven by nothing but genuine affection for the game. Richly detailed and mordantly deadpan, 'Eephus' adopts their pace of play, soaking up all the sesame-seed flavour that goes along with it. The title comes from an unnaturally slow pitch not slung but lobbed toward home. When I was a kid pitching, I liked to uncork one from time to time, much to my coach's dismay. The metaphor isn't hard to grasp. One player describes it as a pitch you can get bored watching, even making you lose track of time. Much of the same applies to 'Eephus,' which drifts player to player, play to play, less as an ensemble piece than like a roving spectator. The guys, themselves, have no more than a handful of fans, including the diehard scorekeeper Fanny (Cliff Blake). Frederick Wiseman, the great documentarian whose films chronicle nothing so much as institutions kept alive over time, is the voice of the announcer. I earlier called Lund's film an ode, but it's not a sentimental movie. Time's passage, which no ballgame or perfectly thrown eephus can halt, grows increasingly disquieting as the afternoon light gives way to nightfall. That, to finish the game, they play into near-total darkness, with only headlights to see the ball, is a sign of desperation as much as it is commitment. After all, one guy in the dugout is listening to a radio broadcast of a ballgame, from 1972. What's being lost? It's not a strip mall the field is to be turned into but something harder to quibble with: a school. They could drive half an hour to another field, but that's said to be half Little League, half farmer's market. They aren't a collection of pals, either. They don't hang out away from the diamond. Things they don't talk about: work, families, politics. Things they do: eyecare for the ump. In the annals of baseball movies, 'Eephus' doesn't belong in the Hall of Fame with 'Bull Durham' or 'A League of Their Own.' The closest it gets to the big leagues is an appearance by Bill 'Spaceman' Lee, the 1970s southpaw and eephus adherent. But 'Eephus' is just as deserving of a place in that hardball pantheon, only in some minor ball realm, well below single A. Here, they don't throw 'high cheese' but such meatballs that, as one player riffs, you could call it pasta primavera. To call this a field of dreams would be pushing it. But it's a lovely way to pass some time.
Yahoo
06-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Movie Review: 'Eephus' is the best baseball movies since 'Moneyball'
In Carson Lund's 'Eephus,' two teams – the Riverdogs and Adler's Paint – gather on a neighborhood field for a baseball game. The leaves are already starting to turn — 'It's getting late early,' as Yogi Berra said — and this is to be the final game for their adult rec league. The field is to be demolished. No one would confuse them for all-stars. A suicide squeeze unfolds in creaky slow-motion. The rotund left fielder mutters 'Mother McCree' under his breath when the ball is hit in the gap. But, regardless of skill level, they all care sincerely about the game. 'Eephus,' as leisurely as a late-August double header, simply unfolds along with their game. Except to chase a foul ball or two, the movie stays within the lines of Soldier Field, the nondescript Massachusetts baseball field they're playing on sometime in the 1990s. It spans nine innings, with dugout chatter and fading light. In this slow-pitch gem of a baseball movie — a middle-aged 'Sandlot' — time is slipping away, but they're going down swinging. Money, analytics and whatever's on ESPN can sometimes cloud what sports is to most people: A refuge. 'Eephus,' in that way, is a change-up of a baseball movie, an elegiac ode to the humbler weekend warriors who are driven by nothing but genuine affection for the game. Richly detailed and mordantly deadpan, 'Eephus" adopts their pace of play, soaking up all the sesame-seed flavor that goes along with it. The title comes from an unnaturally slow pitch not slung but lobbed toward home. When I was a kid pitching, I liked to uncork one from time to time, much to my coach's dismay. The metaphor isn't hard to grasp. One player describes it as a pitch you can get bored watching, even making you lose track of time. Much of the same applies to 'Eephus,' which drifts player to player, play to play, less as an ensemble piece than like a roving spectator. The guys, themselves, have no more than a handful of fans, including the diehard scorekeeper Fanny (Cliff Blake). Frederick Wiseman, the great documentarian whose films chronicle nothing so much as institutions kept alive over time, is the voice of the announcer. I earlier called Lund's film an ode, but it's not a sentimental movie. Time's passage, which no ballgame or perfectly thrown eephus can halt, grows increasingly disquieting as the afternoon light gives way to nightfall. That, to finish the game, they play into near-total darkness, with only headlights to see the ball, is a sign of desperation as much as it is commitment. After all, one guy in the dugout is listening to a radio broadcast of a ballgame, from 1972. What's being lost? It's not a strip mall the field is to be turned into but something harder to quibble with: a school. They could drive half an hour to another field, but that's said to be half Little League, half farmer's market. They aren't a collection of pals, either. They don't hang out away from the diamond. Things they don't talk about: work, families, politics. Things they do: eyecare for the ump. In the annals of baseball movies, 'Eephus' doesn't belong in the Hall of Fame with 'Bull Durham' or 'A League of Their Own.' The closest it gets to the big leagues is an appearance by Bill 'Spaceman' Lee, the 1970s southpaw and eephus adherent. But 'Eephus' is just as deserving of a place in that hardball pantheon, only in some minor ball realm, well below single A. Here, they don't throw 'high cheese' but such meatballs that, as one player riffs, you could call it pasta primavera. To call this a field of dreams would be pushing it. But it's a lovely way to pass some time. 'Eephus,' a Music Box release is not rated by the Motion Picture Association but contains coarse language. Running time: 98 minutes. Three stars out of four. Jake Coyle, The Associated Press
