Carson Lund’s directorial debut, Eephus, is a film that premiered in the “Directors’ Fortnight” section of the Cannes’ film festival this year. Eephus is a nostalgic and somewhat melancholic comedy that follows two small town New England recreational baseball teams who gather for a bittersweet final game at their local baseball field before it is destroyed and replaced with a school.
Eephus’ title refers to a rarely seen baseball pitch, in which the ball is thrown at a high arc and a low speed, catching the batter off guard so that by the time they recognize what was thrown, the ball is already past them. In Eephus, Lund spiritually likens the eephus pitch to the bittersweet farewells we eventually give to those people, places, and hobbies that connect us to our youthful passions: surprising, slow, and sadly over before you even knew it started.
When I heard there was an American baseball film premiering at Cannes, I knew I had to be there to see it. As a former baseball player and a recent college graduate, I knew the film would have some themes and messages that may resonate more with me than with the average moviegoer, and I was not wrong. However, I don’t want this review to be wholly tinged with my bias, so I will try to separate my praise of this film first into a section that is more of an objective critique and then one that is wholly indulgent in my own nostalgia and personal experience.
Though Eephus is technically a sports movie, the results of the baseball game that encompass this film are almost entirely irrelevant. What is more important is the process; the ritual of a local, hometown, extremely casual baseball game that this film takes us through, and a perspective that illuminates the temperaments and desires of each of these men at differing stages of their lives. The game bears little dramatic significance, which lends itself to a more serene and meditative tone. In the moments where Eephus threatens to force significance onto the tangible results of the game, the film diverts and thus subverts many predictable tropes you may expect from a typical sports film.
If you’re like me and have always detested sports movies for the fact that the actors never convincingly look like professional athletes at the top of their game, Eephus will cause you no stress. These two teams are comprised of middle-aged, small town, New England men who are supposed to (and endearingly, do) look like total amateurs. But that’s the fun of it all! Just some grumpy old men spending a day at the ballpark, drinking beers, trying not to hurt themselves, and clinging to the reminiscent glory of their youth.
Before I get any deeper into the film’s artistry and resonance, I must first say that Eephus is a comedy, and a good one at that. Each team is composed of characters chalk full of dad jokes, unathletic flourishes, grumpy outbursts, good spirited trash talk, and tinges of alcoholism. My theater had an absolute blast with this. Even the moments that aren’t necessarily punctuated with zingy one liners, awkward banter, and fat old men uncomfortably sliding into second base are so consistently comforting and amusing that it is nearly impossible not to persistently grin throughout the film’s 128 minute runtime.
In the moments that Eephus is not looking for laughs, it chooses to marinate in the sobering, bittersweet, drawn out goodbye that this baseball game represents for these players. Characters oscillate between focusing on the game and mourning the imminent death of their sacred space. As the game trudges onward, the petals of enthusiasm towards the game slowly fall off. Players lose energy, family members leave early, the umpire refuses to stay past his obligated time commitment, and daylight fades. With each setback, and with each moment you expect everybody to throw in the towel, they persist onwards, not out of competitive spirit or excitement, but in a desperate and sometimes futile attempt to savor the waning moments of a ritual that is fading before their eyes. These moments lend themselves to both comedy and remorse, not only for Eephus’ characters, but for every viewer who is forced to think about the time they said goodbye to whatever sport or hobby represented their own childhood.
Eephus is a baseball movie, but you do not need to know anything about the rules of the game to enjoy or relate to this film. In fact, a colleague of mine who had never played baseball before said the whole ritual reminded him of the collaborative filmmaking process and the progression of energy and time on a film set. They say all the best sports movies aren’t really about sports, and that rings true of Eephus as well.
With that being said, baseball fans and former players will have even more to enjoy from this movie. It is clear that the filmmakers truly love the sport, and it shines through in all the minutiae of details that only someone intimately involved with the sport would be able to appreciate and represent in the cinematic form. Beautifully composed frames linger romanticize the many textures and shapes of the baseball diamond. Fielders and baserunners banter, trash talk, and converse about topics completely unrelated to the game until a ball is hit and the dialogue is immediately severed. Outfielders lose focus and groan over the long, long trot back to the dugout. Teammates cheer each other on and pick each other up with the practiced-yet-earnest adages and aphorisms that any former baseball player will instantly recognize. All of these lived-in specificities feel like love letters to America’s favorite pastime for those who care, and endearing character moments for those who don’t.
For me, Eephus is so deeply rooted in nostalgia, not only because of baseball, but because it reminded me of all the games I used to play with other kids in my childhood. Football, tag, Nerf wars, kickball, etc etc. Many of these games followed the same trajectory of the game in Eephus: loads of energy to begin with, bickering and bantering in the middle, compromising rules of the game as kids went home and balls became scarce, and then those exhausted final moments where we finished out of obligation. There is a shot in Eephus that struck a particular chord with me, where the players all pulled up their cars and shined their headlights onto the field in a futile attempt to illuminate the baseball diamond under the night sky. I can remember attempting this exact same thing on a blacktop basketball court in high school, and I mourn the days my friends and I would put in all that effort for just one more game.
I dedicated my entire youth to baseball. From tee-ball to high school, I spent many nights dreading practices I didn’t want to go to and many days fantasizing about games I really wanted to win. I trained almost every day and played almost every weekend. I played on countless teams and made countless friends. I was coached by people who became my role models, and sometimes I was coached by people who were the furthest thing from a role model. Every mistake I made on the baseball field felt like absolute tragedy in my tiny, beautifully uncomplicated life, and every success felt like euphoric triumph. Through it all, my Dad would always be there to pull me back up and celebrate me, and my Mom would always be on the sidelines asking what the rules were.
Baseball was quite literally my world, and due to unfortunate circumstances, I never got the chance to have my bittersweet goodbye. I never knew that my last game would be my last game, or that my last practice would be my last practice. Part of the reason Eephus has been so affecting towards me is because it gave me a chance to experience that bittersweet goodbye. I was able to imagine myself as each one of these players at one point or another, and I imagined the contradictory senses of anguish and sentimentality I would experience in my goodbye game. I am simultaneously regretful towards the fact I never experienced such a goodbye, grateful that I didn’t have to experience such potent heartbreak, and appreciative of Eephus for allowing me to reflect on it all these years later.
The power of genuine catharsis is one very few films are able to wield, but I am happy to say Eephus had this effect on me, and I am sure this beautiful piece of art has the capacity to bring others a similar feeling of closure with whatever piece of youth they may have left behind.
