In Eephus, a Charming, Small-Town Baseball Game Becomes the Game of Life

Carson Lund’s feature directorial debut starts and ends on a baseball field, and within the world of the film, that field won’t be there for much longer after the camera fades to black, either. Eephus is an elegy for the last small-town game that will ever be played on Soldier’s Field, the demolition of which is to make way for a new public school. It’s difficult to complain about the construction of an institution that will benefit the local children, but the men who comprise the teams of the Riverdogs and the Adler’s Paint still grumble and mutter to themselves, angry about the “art classes” that will be held on top of what was once a spot to uphold a great American tradition. The film is placed sometime in the 1990s, when people still drove IROC-Z’s, still listened to chintzy local ads on the public radio, and didn’t have quite as many distractions to hinder interest in getting a group of mismatched guys together to play a good old game of baseball.

Eephus—which was co-written by Lund alongside Michael Basta and Nate Fisher, the latter of whom plays the character of Merritt in the film—is named after a type of flashy trick pitch that wouldn’t normally be seen in professional baseball. As Merritt wistfully explains to one of his teammates while benched, an Eephus pitch “stays in the air forever.” It’s slow with a high arc, meant to confuse the hitter and catch him off guard. Of course, Eephus isn’t a film about professional baseball. It’s a film about mostly middle-aged men past their prime, and younger men who show some potential, all of whom have gotten together to play a game that isn’t very good and becomes an overt symbol for hanging onto the past. The “Eephus” pitch is an apt characterization for the film that now shares its name, an odd, surprising story about a baseball game with seemingly little to no stakes, that continues on for long after it should’ve already ended. The two teams aren’t playing to do something silly like save the field, because the construction of the school has already been decided. The stakes are much more personal; when the game ends, something else crucial ends for each of the men as well.

This final game on Soldier’s Field is meant to be a grand send-off for the beloved locale. The teams emerge in the morning in high spirits, already slinging beers and cracking jokes. It’s admittedly hard to remember which character is who, partly because there’s so many of these guys, and partly because the cast is made up of little-known actors. The most famous of them is probably Keith William Richards, the scene-stealing heavy in Uncut Gems, plus a charming voice cameo from venerated documentarian Frederick Wiseman as a radio announcer. Regardless of being known actors or not (and whether I’m able to remember who’s who) the cast builds a sweet rapport with one another. Almost every character gets at least one scene with another character, to portray their long-standing relationships and individual dynamics. Little moments that give you a glimpse as to what the games we never got to see were like.

The first to arrive at the field is actually Franny (Cliff Bake), a local man not on either team who simply does them all the favor of being the guy to keep score. Franny is revealed to be a particularly loyal scorekeeper, always there at every game, and just one of a revolving cast of characters who float on the periphery of the field that day. Franny interacts with Howie (Lou Basta), a much older man who observes the game from the stands and bemoans all the changes taking over the town—like switching from triangular manholes to the much more commonplace circular ones. There are the teen stoners with nothing better to do than heckle guys in the outfield, a pizza truck man who hates his job and ends up distracting the players, one player’s wife and his two children who don’t mind amusing themselves all day, and a strange man donning boxing gloves who appears to be fighting with the air.

As exemplified by boxing guy, there’s a light atmosphere of absurdity to Eephus. Bolstered by a cast that varies in acting ability, the film never feels like indie realism. It has a light, playful tone, where actors sometimes deliver dialogue awkwardly, or say and do things that plainly don’t make sense; like when none other than Wayne Diamond cruises into the field honking his car like a maniac to sweep Ed (Richards, in a delightful Uncut Gems reunion between the two) from the game to his niece’s christening. It all works to create a world that just feels a little bit off. Nate Fisher’s performance of Merritt is the only one that’s outwardly deadpan, and he comes across as if he somehow knows things far beyond his years. There are also occasional lingering shots of the area surrounding the field that can be best described as unnerving, accompanied by a foreboding, drum-heavy score composed by Carson and Erik Lund. It’s as if the camera is trying to tell us something inherent and dark about the world that isn’t presented on the surface.

The fringe spectators drawn to the game are drawn to it for similar reasons as the actual players; baseball tends to bring people together. Julie, the young daughter of one of the players, asks to her brother “Why do they care so much?” Julie’s brother can’t give her an answer, but it’s because it’s a game they play to win, because it’s tradition, and because that’s just what you do. Because after the game ends, it marks a passage of time for the men playing the game. It’s why they prolong the game past dusk, hours after the umpire has already left; because time and sense be damned, they are going to finish this thing properly. It yields a final sequence that is arguably drawn out farther than it needs to be, but you can tell that it’s pretty intentional. You feel just as exasperated that they game hasn’t ended yet as the men who are still playing it, who are now playing with their car headlights on because otherwise they couldn’t even see what they’re doing. This produces a good handful of visual laughs, in spite of and because of everything and everyone being bathed in glowy nightfall. Here, the cinematography from Greg Tango trades the dreamy pastels of the daytime for striking spotlights amidst the darkness.

It’s easy to say that the end of the game symbolizes the end of an era, the passage of time, the door closing on a world that no longer exists—because, well, it’s true. Eephus is a sweet, simple film, but its simplicity should not be taken for a lack of profundity. Carson Lund and co. have crafted more than a “baseball movie,” an elegy for these fleeting things in life that bring people together. The conclusion of the game sees the men no longer exhibiting the cheer that they had hours earlier, but exhaustion, annoyance, and even a little shame, that they allowed their final hurrah to be stretched into something of a mockery of itself. Some players express eagerness at trying to get the gang back together in the future, but the muted responses indicate otherwise. There’s an unspoken agreement that what’s past is past, will never be the same again. It’s sad, but it’s also beautiful to have gotten to live it.

Director: Carson Lund
Writer: Michael Basta, Nate Fisher, Carson Lund
Stars: Cliff Blake, Theodore Bouloukos, Brendan Burt, Joe Castiglione, Wayne Diamond, Nate Fisher, Keith William Richards
Release date: Oct. 2, 2024

Brianna Zigler is an entertainment writer based in middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts. Her work has appeared at Little White Lies, Film School Rejects, Thrillist, Bright Wall/Dark Room and more, and she writes a bi-monthly newsletter called That’s Weird. You can follow her on Twitter, where she likes to engage in stimulating discussions on films like Movie 43, Clifford, and Watchmen.