Eephus

This is bound to be an unpopular opinion, but, to me, fewer things in life are more boring than baseball – except perhaps for movies about baseball (with a few exceptions like “The Natural” (1984), “A... This is bound to be an unpopular opinion, but, to me, fewer things in life are more boring than baseball – except perhaps for movies about baseball (with a few exceptions like “The Natural” (1984), “A League of Their Own” (1992) and “42” (2013)). And that foregoing assessment, in my view, is more than applicable to this positively dreadful debut feature from writer-director Carson Lund. This alleged comedy tells the story of two men’s recreational baseball teams in a small Massachusetts town who embark on playing the last-ever game to be held at a local ballpark that’s about to be torn down to make room for construction of a new school. The implausibly overlong matchup, brought about by a series of completely unfunny incidents that stretch out the length of the game, goes on from midday through the afternoon and into the crisp, chilly fall evening wherein the players try to continue competing in the dark (gee, now there’s a load of laughs for you). There are also numerous talky, uninteresting conversations among the players in the dugout, along with views from the sidelines, where a handful of passing spectators offer their observations about what’s transpiring on the field. These sequences do little to add to the film and serve only to pad an already-tedious narrative. The sad part in all this is that the premise truly had the potential to make for a fun and heartwarming picture. Unfortunately, though, the absolutely flat dialogue, lame plot elements and undercooked character development prevent that from materializing. While this offering admittedly features some impressive cinematography and a well-conceived production design, there’s not much else to commend here. That is, of course, unless one compliments the creators on their fitting choice of title for the film: An “eephus,” for those who aren’t aware of what it is, is the name for an obscure form of curveball, one that’s thrown deceptively slowly, almost to the point where it lulls the batter into a sense of mesmerized complacency, as if to put the hitter to sleep. And, on that score, the filmmaker has truly succeeded in crafting a picture that lives up to its namesake where audiences are concerned. All I can say is that I’m truly glad that I didn’t pay box office ticket prices to see this one.