The Sandlot

THANKS to the boys of summer - nine wonderful child actors - and a sweetly nostalgic story well told by writer-director David Mickey Evans, The Sandlot is a winner. [9 Apr 1993, p.3F]

That's what The Sandlot repeatedly does: Confound your expectations. It's a charming and hilarious flick for kids (boys in particular will eat it up) that feels remarkably fresh, even during its occasional foray into cliche land. [7 Apr 1993, p.E1]

Allen (Raiders of the Lost Ark) is ideally cast as the mom, and as the step-dad, Leary gets a break from his bad boy of MTV image. The Sandlot is truly one about the boys of summer.

Kids will understand this stuff. If you can remember your younger, goofier roots, so will you. Sandlot isn't well made but it's alive with dopey, summertime spirit.

The comedy is broad, cartoonish, and quite funny in a faux "Little Rascals" manner. The movie is almost completely derivative, but that's part of the fun.

Chock-a-block with cute reminiscence - which is a shame, because if it weren't so knowing, this would be quite a likeable little comedy about nothing in particular.

A baseball nostalgia piece all weirded-out by flashes of supernatural horror, this early-'60s remembrance is like sitting through a double bill of Field of Dreams and The Goonies. [7 Apr 1993, p.8D]

[SPOILER ALERT: This review contains spoilers.]

There is a reason why this movie is iconic with a capital I. It never gets old no matter how many times you rewatch it. There is truly such thing as a cult classic, and this movie falls under that, with the "classic" emphasized.

This movie is etched in time. A timecapsule frame of Family Movies. They simply do not make features like these anymore.

Love this movie when I was young. We had a group of a that always loved to play sports. Reminds me so much of that when I watch the movie.

Summertime nostalgia for the carefree days of yore, when friendship, mischief and baseball was the extent of a young boy's concern. And actually, those first two points are ancillary. Baseball is where it all begins and ends. I didn't grow up in 1960s California like these kids, but their experiences are eerily familiar. As, I'll wager, is the case with most men beyond a certain age. We're products of a day when parents would send their children out, unsupervised, to find their own way in the world until a certain designated supper time. That open sense of freedom, and the alternating feelings of fear and discovery that accompany it, is key to understanding why The Sandlot is so well-loved. Either you lived it and you see it, right there on the screen, or you didn't, and it misses you. It's got shortcomings - lots of shortcomings, actually - but that warm overriding sentimentality smooths over a lot of the rough spots. The effects work on that big, scary junkyard dog might be laughable, but hey, such threats really do seem exaggerated and scary when you're twelve years old. Did the city actually light enough Independence Day fireworks to illuminate the neighborhood baseball diamond for a once-a-year night game? Probably not, but I'll bet it seems that way through the fog of a few decades' unreliable memory. Simple and predictable, with an overdose of "for the love of the game" axioms, but also good-natured and playful; it's nice to visit this world, to recall your own similar childhood adventures, even if you can't completely overlook its schmaltzier limitations.