Burt Lancaster in ‘Field of Dreams’ (1989)

This is not Burt Lancaster.

This is it seems one of those movies you either love or hate. My feelings about it fall somewhere in between. Now that I’ve contradicted myself, let’s talk about this movie and Burt Lancaster’s role in it.

Yep. Here he is. (Via DVD Beaver)

This movie has been described as a redemption story and a story of dreams. While Wikipedia places it in the odd subsubcategory of “sports fantasy drama film,” at its heart, it’s a fairy tale for grownups. One with a serious point about realizing one’s true purpose.

In case you haven’t seen the movie, it’s about a man named Ray Kinsella with a family who lives on a farm in Iowa. He’s going through a mid-life crisis rough patch when, whilst tip-toeing through the cornfields, he hears a voice. The voice whispers, “If you build it, he will come,” at which point, a vision appears. A baseball diamond and Ray Liotta playing “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, one of the so-called Black Sox.  Without going into the history of baseball, let’s just say things didn’t work out so well for them. (See Eight Men Out for more on that subject.) From that, Kevin Costner Ray the Farmer divines that he should plow his corn under and build that playing field.

So, where’s Burt Lancaster? Well, he doesn’t appear for a while. First Kevin as Ray must engage in library research and find a connection to an author named Terrence Mann, who allegedly had a dream about “John Kinsella” and made him a character in one of his stories. Mann’s a genuine former believer in the Power of Hippie Love to save the world. He lives in Boston now, a recluse and maker of PC educational video games. But first, Mrs. Kinsella, aka Amy Madigan, gets to make a speech against book banning and about sticking it to the Man in a way that hadn’t been seen since Mr. Smith went to Washington in that movie about the guy who went to Washington.

Burt still hasn’t made an appearance, as yet, because first Kevin/Ray must take James/Terrence to a Red Sox game. He’s prompted to seek out the author after hearing The Voice tell him to “ease his pain.” (Whose pain? We don’t know yet.) Have I mentioned that James is James Earl Jones? And, at the first mention of the Sixties, he’s ready to kick Kevin/Ray’s sorry ass all the way back to Iowa.

“I was the East Coast distributor of the hippie revolution,” he intones, sounding nothing like Darth Vader. That’s not a direct quote, FYI. Just what I heard him say. “I’m tired of being everyone’s conscience, not to mention my generation’s rank hypocrisy. Please leave me the fuck alone.” But does Kevin/Ray respect this plea request? Hell, no, or there’d be no point to the subsequent scenes where Ray/Kevin kidnaps Terrence/James and they hit the road in his Hippiemobile VW minibus. But along the way, James/Terrence develops Stockholm Syndrome plays along with the whole thing reluctantly starts to believe in something other than video game creation for fun and profit.

You see, whilst at the Red Sox game, Kevin/Ray and James/Terrence both see the message on the scoreboard that no one else can, telling them about a baseball player from years gone by, Archie “Moonlight” Graham. It displays his statistics in the one major league game he got to play. So, they have to go to Chisholm, Minnesota, where Graham was known as Doc Graham and he married a girl named Alicia, who he gifts with many hats between birthing babies and saving lives. Doc Graham is played to perfection by none other than our representative of the Greatest Generation, Burt Lancaster.

But before we meet him on-screen, we get to hear the real obituary for what was the very real Dr. Graham, who really did play baseball in the majors for one game. And it’s beautiful the way obituaries usually are. So, anyway …

While staying the night in Chisholm, Ray K/Kevin C can’t sleep, so he takes a walk and manages to wander right into 1972. Somewhere up ahead in the gloom of night, a lone shadowy figure disappears around a corner. So, Ray skips the midnight viewing of The Godfather and hustles past the Nixon headquarters (next to the window full of videotapes) to catch up to the Mystery Man, who turns out to be none other than Burt Lancaster. And he is a presence so great, he nearly steals the picture from everyone.

From here to eternity … (Image via Looper.)

His lines are written like poetry and Burt reads them as if poetry were the most normal method of communication. His presence commands your attention on the most ordinary, yet moving, of subjects. His dialogue is of ordinary things—his disillusion with baseball and throwing in the towel to pursue a medical career, how much he loves Chisholm and worries that his wife will think he has a girl on the side. 

But Kevin/Ray has a job to do, which involves finding out Doc Graham’s one wish about his baseball career. And, we learn he does have an unfulfilled wish. However, Doc Graham is quite philosophical about the whole thing.

Thus he delivers the oft-quoted line: “We just don’t recognize life’s most significant moments while they’re happening. Back then I thought, ‘Well, there’ll be other days.’ I didn’t realize that that was the only day.” But that’s followed with, “If I’d only been a doctor for ten minutes, that would have been a tragedy.” (Or words to that effect, because I couldn’t find them online they’re less quotable, I suppose.)

There are many ways one can interpret this movie. It’s a redemption story. It’s a story about following your dreams, no matter what the cost. Is it significant that Doc Graham was happy as a doctor, even if he didn’t play the majors again? Was he fated to be brought back to life as a young man to play on a baseball diamond amid the cornstalks? Whose dream is being fulfilled here? Doc’s? “Shoeless” Joe’s? Ray’s/Kevin’s? His father’s?

Is it ironic that the Kinsellas are basically living like hippies with a mortgage? Possibly. But what’s important is that “people will come.” Just like that. And mainly because it’s a movie.

Doc Graham, meanwhile, gets his wish, loses his youth when he steps off the field to save a child’s life, then makes his way through the back-slapping throng of admiring baseball ghosts and disappears into the corn. It feels so much like a final bow, that it’s hard to believe he initially turned down the part.

James Stewart was the first choice for the role. He turned it down first. Burt was later talked into taking it by a friend. Perhaps he sensed an opportunity he’d never get again.

Frankly, Burt’s acting in this movie seems like the result of evolution. From film noir thug (see his debut in The Killers) to elderly gangster (see Atlantic City) to elder statesman (Local Hero, which I still need to see). Who, like all things, must bid us adieu, eventually.

Fade to black.

*****

Director: Phil Alden Robinson
Producer: Lawrence Gordon and Charles Gordon
Screenwriter: Phil Alden Robinson

Submitted as part of the Spring 2024 CMBA Blogathon: Screen Debuts & Last Hurrahs!

PS: See what I’m talking about? 🙂