Eephus Goes Around the Horn

Eephus can’t be considered a can of corn. In baseball parlance, that’s an easily caught fly ball. This movie could be called a quiet meditation on the metaphysical and unspoken elements of baseball. Yet, it could also be called the simple portrait of a game. The depth it possesses is in the eye of the beholder. That means the movie is limited by its own subtleties.

The most basic synopsis makes Eephus about two small town baseball teams. Adler’s Paint and the River Dogs are about to engage in their last game. The field they’ve played on for an unfathomable amount of time is going to be erased by an impending construction project. Now, there’s nothing to do but play ball—one final around the horn.

Unlike other sports films, there’s no petty rivalry between the two teams. These are recreational players, most of whom are middle-aged. In a way, they’re both underdogs. What could easily have been a film about feisty folks revitalized by finding a way to save the field is nowhere near the plot. Eephus ignores such a cliché course to softly deliver something more poetic.

Most of the dialogue might seem to have no point. That’s because much of what’s said is filtered through the coded language of reserved masculinity. These aren’t men prone to pouring their hearts out. In the safety of a baseball diamond, playing a game allows for indirect statements or emotional outbursts—sometimes fueled by beer—that hint of deeper matters.

This shouldn’t imply there aren’t occasional overt observations. Even those come about somewhat indirectly thanks to smart writing. At risk of spoilers, a player is lamenting how his kids saw him strike out and while visibly ashamed that may be their last vision of dad at bat, a teammate casually remarks he’s the only one whose family comes to watch him play. The smile that observation inspires is what Eephus does best.

The movie only dwells on a moment long enough to be sure it’s witnessed. Then matters move on to the next bit of action, drama, or comedy. Inch by inch, the film progresses through points. Not all of them have poetic meaning or philosophical depth, but even the meaningless matters because it all moves the plot along, that last game creeping to a close.

For some, it may call to mind the Jackie Robinson quote:

“Baseball is like a poker game. Nobody wants to quit when he’s losing; nobody wants you to quit when you’re ahead.”

Director Carson Lund along with co-writer Michael Basta has composed a quiet meditation on a variety of themes. The passage of time might be the most obvious. Although set in the mid-1990s, there’s a seventies feel and older to Eephus. As such, the film is able to be about growing older, the world changing, things slipping away, and inevitable loss.

Much of this is helped by wonderful production choices. The doomed Soldier’s Field where the two teams play looks like a forgotten relic. The paint is chipped and faded. The sports box and bleachers have seen better days decades back. Uniforms worn by Adler’s Paint and the River Dogs are faded from use and countless laundry cycles. Faux ads and radio shows crackle out of staticky radios decades distant from modern devices. The cars these players drive even seem out of date. Hints of anachronism emphasized by baseball’s own historical aura make this final game seem like something that shouldn’t have an end, though it inevitably does.

Visually, Eephus can be just as subtle as its character interactions. Older players standing next to children. The way the film literally takes place across a day. The light fading steadily into the night. Someone wandering the woods in search of a lost foul ball. Meanwhile, moments are broken up by a character named Franny, played by Cliff Blake (Murder at Rought Point), a fan who meticulously keeps track of the game in a scoresheet ledger: pages for every pitch, boxes to mark strikes, who’s on which base, track fielding, and the score.

Sports movies are never really about the game. They’re usually concerned with some other metaphor. Eephus is the closest to a film simply presenting baseball. Much of the movie plays out as if just watching a game. And events come close to showing things play by play with little cinematic flair. It really feels like watching the whole final game between the River Dogs and Adler’s Paint.

In that respect, Eephus could almost be called a slice of life. The major conflict isn’t the game or the closing of the field but the overarching implications therein. These men are losing the very thing that gives their lives meaning or distraction, depending on what they need most, maybe meaning is distraction. All the while, Eephus only offers a naturalistic glimpse of this last ball game with hints of the effect it has on its players.

With all this in mind, one could be forgiven for thinking this is a heavy film. Despite the undercurrent of deep themes, (or perhaps because of them) a certain absurdity runs throughout Eephus keeping things from being too serious. Comical characters like Troy Carnahan (David Pridemore), Chuck Poleen (Theodore Bouloukos), and Bobby Crompton (Brendan Burt) have amusing moments. The lamentations of Mr. Mallinari, a food truck driver played by retired Red Sox announcer Joe Castiglione, certainly spark a chuckle. And speaking of Boston, their Hall of Fame southpaw Bill “Spaceman” Lee makes an interesting appearance.

Eephus never settles on being one thing. It is what viewers will see in it. Anyone averse to baseball may choose to sit this one out. Its slow pace can threaten sleep, while its subtlety can mean missing the point which may make the movie boring to some. But, this well-crafted love letter to the game also offers a quiet poetic contemplation on life through the lens of those disinclined to metaphysical musings. Eephus is enjoyable, though unlikely to draw the largest crowd.