The inspiring true story of a cheapskate, low payroll owner using statistical analysis to win just enough games to sell hope to the fan base but not enough games to get out of the ALDS. The type of film to warm whatever passes for Jerry Reinsdorf’s heart.
A bonafide 21st century classic, never passing up an opportunity to see one of those on 35mm. Maybe Sorkin’s best script? Hard to top The Social Network but there’s no meat left on…
The best sex baseball (baseball sex?) film on 35mm at the world’s best movie palace, with the pre-show organist playing ballpark standards, an intro from one of my favorite Chicago sports radio hosts (shoutout Matt Speigel) on a beautiful early spring day? Life in the city doesn’t get better.
Football remains my favorite sport, but it is a major strike (ha!) against it that nobody has made a movie about it as good as Bull Durham.
Maybe the worst movie ever? Whose to say?
Can’t believe I risked omicron for this shit, genuinely shocked by how bad it was. Action sequences with no grace or tension, characters without characterization, running on the fumes of references to better, well-crafted films which only serve to highlight the degraded quality of the slop you’re being expected to consume.
Audience filled with fellow noir sickos burst into applause for Sydney Greenstreet when he first showed up.
