The Natural (1984)

Not just a classic baseball movie, “The Natural” is an American fable as fantastical as Paul Bunyan or Superman. Quintessential American actor Robert Redford plays Roy Hobbs, a middle-aged (35!) man who finally climbs to the majors to become the “best that ever came or will be” on the diamond. He can pitch like a tank, and hits balls -– with his own bat carved from a tree stuck by lightening –- like Ruth. Years earlier Hobbs was on his way to young stardom when a woman shot him out of spite, before committing suicide. Hobbs has buried the past, but is not ashamed of it, for it does not define him. Yes, Roy is waylaid and deceived, and Homer’s “Odyssey” is name-dropped and shadows the story, complete with a Cyclops (Darren McGavin plays a crooked investor with a glass eye). Directed by Barry Levinson, shot by Caleb Deschanel, and scored by Randy Newman, this is a superhero film for guys who think a baseball cap is just as good as a red cape. Corny? Sentimental? Obvious? Absolutely. But I recently re-watched it to the outside sounds of fireworks and thunder. I felt as if a child, peaking at God. A

42 (2013)

The story of Jackie Robinson -– the first African-American to cross the color line in baseball and swing a bat at a bunch of white guys –- needs no embellishments. It is one of the greatest of American stories, a man finding love, fame, strength, and most vital of all respect after sustaining unspeakable hate. But in Hollywood, every story needs a rewrite. OK, writer/director Brian Helgeland (he co-wrote “L.A. Confidential”) has a good film with “42,” and I cheered on newcomer Chadwick Boseman as Robinson, despite knowing every outcome, but the “clap here!” music score deafens, Robinson is treated like Jesus, and the go-capitalists! whack-off vibe reeks. Never mind the stock side characters: The gold-hearted mentor (Harrison Ford), the bus loads of reject bigots, and the one guy who must be reborn. “42” hits high marks, though, when it shows baseball as a, yes, glorious American pastime (long past?), but one marked with sin, as is all of America. Check the scenes across the American Northeast –- not just the South -– that show the extent of prejudice, and awe when rage overtakes Robinson. In Philly. Well done that. The title, and all its meanings, is simple brilliance. B

Moneyball (2011)

What better time to see “Moneyball” than now? World Series! Baseball is in its glory, when even the folks who don’t care a whiff about RBIs suddenly start paying attention to the diamond drama. And this is a solid out of left field drama that avoids the tired comedy antics of “Major League” and focuses solely inside the back offices. (That said, this is no “Bull Durham.” But what sports film is?)

It's 2001 and Oakland Athletics’ GM Billy Beane is coming off a post-season crushing by the Yankees. His top players bolted for greener pastures, money –wise and location-wise. He needs replacements. STAT. But his recruiting budget is a third of the Yankees’. So, how the hell can Beane compete? That’s the gist of “Moneyball,” where Beane – played by Brad Pitt in a powerfully understated Everyman tone – goes against the biblical rules of baseball scouts, and instead relies on the “get on Base” mantra of one Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), an economics geek. If you know baseball, you know the rest. The As start the season awful, with a piss-ant coach (Philip Seymour-Hoffman, head shaved and crusty) ruining the lineup. Beane must take control.

Co-written by Aaron Sorkin and Steve Zallian, “Moneyball” is about any passion or business – pizza-making, movie-making, banking or professional sport – steam-rolled by Big Money, all the joy and unknowns crushed under consumer surveys and greed. The baseball scenes are almost beside the point as Beane never watches the games. That said, the tumults of an imploded 11-0 lead make for damn fine filmmaking by director Bennet Miller, who made “Capote.” Yeah, the ending goes long in the bottom of the ninth, but it is painless.

I cannot say enough how much I dug Pitt’s performance, and Hill is brilliant, who knew? What an amazing, quiet, smart performance he gives. Bravo, sir! The camaraderie between the two men is often awkwardly funny, including a scene where Beane teaches Brand how to fire players -- guys twice Brand’s size and who carry bats. The dialogue, as expected from Zallian and Sorkin, pops like a fly ball that never comes down. A-