There have been many movies about baseball, that most American of sports — it is axiomatic. They can be nostalgic, romantic, or even, increasingly, tech-inflected (aka Moneyball, stats, archiving via aggregate). It’s fitting that America’s Pastime would reflect changes in the socio-political landscape of the country; sports have been at the frontline of the Civil Rights movement, labor battles, shifts in entertainment, and are even now, with draconian anti-Trans bills, the fulcrum point of a particularly nasty bit of right-wing culture war madness. What Carson Lund’s Eephus does so well is suggest that the fundamental truth of the sport lies in communal gathering and how that sense of community is being fractured by neoliberalism. Here is a film made by people who clearly love the game, deep down in their bones love it, but also recognize that things have changed and there’s no going back. It’s an elegiac farewell to a hazy, half-remembered spring day, a Proustian reverie with a peculiar kind of curveball as its “madeleine.” It’s also formally adventurous and frequently hilarious, full of the energy that comes from corralling a group of non-professional actors of varying ages and backgrounds and putting them into a makeshift game of make-believe. It’s a miracle this film exists at all, and even more so that it’s one of the best things released so far this year.
Director and co-writer Lund is part of the Omnes Film Collective, and acted as the cinematographer for fellow Omnes member Tyler Taormina’s Ham on Rye and Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point, as well as Jonathan Davies’ Topology of Sirens. For Eephus, Lund has turned photography duties over to Greg Tango, who, it must be said, does an amazing Lund impersonation. The film is, ostensibly, a hangout comedy; it’s the mid-’90s, and two New England rec league teams have arrived at their local park for their final game of the season. For the two teams, The River Dogs and Adler’s Paint, it’s not only the end of the season, but the end of their league. The field is being demolished to make room for new construction, and the next-closest field is too far for most to make the trip. The teams are a mixture of younger men and old-timers, and there’s a palpable sense of history emanating from the scenario; some have been playing for years, others are more recent additions, and while there is a competitive spirit, most seem happy just to be out in the sun, drinking beer, or away from their kids for an afternoon.
The film takes place over one long day, following the contours of the game as it becomes unnaturally elongated. No one wants to end the day with a tie, and so they continue into extra innings as day turns to dusk and finally into darkness. In a way, the film progresses conceptually, as well, moving from a fairly naturalistic milieu into a more mythopoetic space. Like many of the Omnes films, there’s a somnambulant quality to the proceedings, a relaxed approach to narrative that allows for privileged moments even as it refuses to conform to norms about character development or the like. Eephus has a sprawling cast, and we barely get to know any of them, but one is likely to remember a mustache, a detail of the production design, the kid who gets caught smoking in the woods, etc. It’s a film built on gestures and vibes. In an interview with critic Mark Asch, Lund says about baseball: “it’s a way of being, a way of thinking and a way of experiencing time.” He continues, “I don’t like the word boredom… but that boredom, or that stasis, allows for a greater sense of present tense and being in the moment. In a culture that’s always getting faster and faster, and prioritizing profit over everything else.” While not specifically political, it’s hard to deny that Eephus is acutely aware of the fate of both baseball and cinema, two arts in various stages of upheaval thanks to technology and the demands of capitalism. As the film presses to end, the men begin packing up their equipment and cleaning up the beer cans that have accumulated throughout the day. One of them suggests that everyone can stay in touch, that they don’t have to play a game to spend time together. One by one, the others politely demure, suggesting a fundamental truth about society — communal spaces can bring people together that might otherwise never have an opportunity or an interest in spending time together. In this way, baseball isn’t just America’s Pastime, but also inherently cinematic. Eephus suggests that both are dying, or at least irrevocably changing.
DIRECTOR: Carson Lund; CAST: Music Box Films; DISTRIBUTOR: Music Box Films; IN THEATERS: March 7; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 38 min.
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