I honestly
don’t know what to say about this movie.
Its plot is preposterous, of course; dead ball players don’t materialize
in corn fields in this or any universe, including Iowa. Shoeless Joe Jackson probably was something
of an inarticulate bumpkin (but who knows?), not the take-charge guy Ray Liotta
portrays. People don’t change from juvenile
athlete to dignified doctor by stepping onto gravel, as Burt Lancaster
does. And so forth. But yet…..
I thought
this movie a bit stupid, although entertaining, when I first saw it in
1987. Last night I found it beautiful,
almost profound. (Yeah, I’m getting
mushy in my old age!). Be that as it
may, Field of Dreams certainly is at
or near the top of the heap of Keven Costner’s cinematic performances. Everybody else is excellent to very
good. I strongly recommend that you sit
in a quiet place, perhaps drink in hand, an absorb the central message of this
movie, which is ….. ? A-
Even Roger
liked it.
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