Taking place over the span of an entire baseball game, Eephus follows two teams playing the final innings on their community field before it is destroyed
The first time I ever saw my dad cry was at his dad’s funeral. The second time was at his mom’s. The third time was when I watched Field of Dreams with him last summer. Anytime I put on Moneyball for my film classes, all the male students immediately lock in. As recently as last week, a bunch of kids in my class asked if I would come to some of their games before the season ends. Whenever the weather gets nice, the first thing my group chat of college friends (aptly titled The Grown Man Group Chat) suggests is going out to have a catch. This past year, I attempted the 9/9/9 challenge with the boys during a Phillies game. It did not go well. Baseball is the single most unifying extracurricular activity a group of men could hope to experience together. The long and short of it is guys will literally lace up their cleats and run around a diamond together, or watch other guys do it, instead of going to therapy.
Male vulnerability is an untapped, underrepresented subset of dramatic cinema and the baseball movie subgenre is as immediately cathartic as any group of films could be. Eephus director Carson Lund understands this. Lund, a member of the Omnes Film collective who served as director of photography on Tyler Taormina’s Ham on Rye and Christmas Eve at Miller’s Point — and who has a name destined for a baseball card — also recognizes that no film has ever simply followed the events of an entire baseball game from start to finish. Sounds like it could be boring; maybe it will be for most viewers. But for this viewer, no film has ever embodied the intricacies of male conversation, or lack thereof, as well as Lund’s directorial debut.
The Omnes formula, which was nearly perfected in last year’s Miller’s Point, is utilized to astonishing effect in Eephus. The Omnes website describes the team (comprised of Lund, Taormina, Michael Basta, Jonathan Davies, Lorena Alvarado, and Alexandra Simpson) as a group of “friends that favor atmosphere over plot and study the many forms of cultural decay in the 21st century.” Eephus takes us through a day in the life of men — some of whom have grown up, some of whom are about to — who ought to have better things to be doing. The looming knowledge that the field they are playing on, and that they have been playing on for years, is about to be paved over and turned into a school ground adds the faintest sense of narrative tension. There are no grand revelations or all-out brawls. The film ebbs and flows delicately while never betraying its observational premise. Players talk about their knees hurting or how their families never come out to watch them play the games; hints that these men have true suppressed feelings before their banter is undermined and dismissed as your typical dugout talk. But it’s much more than that.
The film takes its name from a famous type of pitch used sparingly in baseball to throw off the batter. The ‘eephus pitch,’ seen here being used by Yankees pitcher Dave LaRoche to strike out Gorman Thomas of the Milwaukee Brewers in 1981, is described by one of the film’s relief pitchers, Merritt Nettles (Nate Fisher), as “a type of curveball that is pitched so unnaturally slow that it confuses the batter, and he swings too early or too late.” Sub Cooper Bassett (Conner Marx), who is perfectly comfortable warming the bench most innings, equates the pitch to the beauty of the game itself: “It’s kind of like baseball. I’m looking around for something to happen. Then poof, game’s over.”
The all-star lineup of well-drawn characters is what makes Eephus a real home run. The New England natives who play on the Riverdogs and Adler’s Paint all bring their own baggage to the field, each with their own idiosyncratic way of mourning the end of their Sunday afternoon pastime. Riverdogs first baseman Glen Murray (Peter Minkarah) wants to tell everyone about the fireworks he’ll be setting off after the game — and how good of a deal he got on them. Adler’s Paint center fielder Adrian Costa (Johnny Tirado) struggles to get a hit once his girlfriend unexpectedly shows up to root for him. Both teams seem to have disdain for the self-appointed Riverdogs team captain Graham Morris (Stephen Radochia), who happens to be responsible for the field’s untimely demise. The most any of these men can hope for is a proper send-off. Luckily the cast is stacked and well-equipped to portray these washed-up ballplayers as thoughtfully as they were rendered in the script by Lund, Michael Basta, and Nate Fisher. By the time former Red Sox legend Bill “Spaceman” Lee makes an appearance, you’ll have almost forgotten documentarian Frederick Wiseman lent his voice talent to the opening credits as a local radio host.
The central question of Eephus is posed innocuously by the young daughter of second baseman Bill Belinda (Russ Gannon) around the film’s midpoint: “Why do they care so much?” It’s a question one could ask about any baseball player or fan. Why would a group of men spend three hours to an entire day trying to outscore the other? Why would a fan sit and watch the entire ordeal play out? Why do baseball fans across the country endure 162 MLB games per season? Is it a sense of obligation? A desire to win? Adler’s Paint catcher John Faiella (John R. Smith Jnr.) offers up the closest thing the film has to an answer upon calls to end the game early: “All I wanna do is go home and drink a fucking beer. But we’re not done.” Another player adds, “Yeah, let’s just finish this thing to say that we did.” Maybe closure is all they care about.
But closure isn’t always a guarantee. Ed Mortinian (Keith William Richards), lead-off pitcher for Adler’s Paint, is treated as a pseudo-main character for the first half of the film before he has his game ended abruptly when Al (the unmistakable Wayne Diamond) comes to pick him up for his niece’s christening. (“That’s now? Today?”) One of the few onlookers in the crowd, Howie (played by producer and co-writer Basta’s grandfather Lou) heads home while the game is tied, because he’s “seen ties.” Scorekeeper Franny (Cliff Blake) cannot even begin to fathom how someone could leave before the end of a game, but Adler’s Paint right fielder Dilberto “D” Nunez (David Torres Jr.) follows suit, storming off the field early as a response to being taunted by the opposing team. Even the fellas who stay past dusk to finish the game are treated to an anticlimactic conclusion. The final run is walked in and, just like that, the field is all but history. Glen’s post-game fireworks go off with more of a sizzle than a bang. The film seems to ask the inverse question of classic dad cinema like Field of Dreams: If you build the field, they will come; but if you destroy the field, where will they go?
The Omnes Films collective has made their name through observational films that each act as a laidback tribute to a distinct time and place. In his piece on Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point for Split Tooth, writer Bennett Glace described Eephus as an autumnal snapshot of familiar rituals being carried out for the last time. Eephus never attempts to inch towards conventional narrative structure; the very nature of a baseball game lends the film enough structure as it is. The work that the Omnes team are doing to counteract the onslaught of unoriginal modern films coupled with the praise they’ve received thus far is evidence that audiences are open to the unexpected. Moviegoers don’t always want a fastball down the middle. Sometimes they want an eephus pitch.
See this one with your pals. Crack open a cold Narragansett while you watch — Eephus is the easy silver medalist Narragansett movie after the untouchable Jaws. Maybe have a chat about it afterwards. Or don’t. Maybe have a catch instead.
Visit the Eephus website to find showtimes and streaming options
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