On the heels of its 30th anniversary, “A League of Their Own” from director Penny Marshall has been reimagined for television in the streaming age by Abbi Jacobson (“Broad City”) and Will Graham (“Mozart In The Jungle”). Taking inspiration from the 1992 screenplay by Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel, who in turn based their screenplay on a story by Kelly Candaele and Kim Wilson, the new Amazon Prime Video show seeks to make explicit aspects of history that were merely implied in the original film. Namely, the queerness of many of its players and the racist exclusion of Black women from the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, which operated from 1943 to 1954. Jacobson and Graham have crafted a new set of characters to explore these themes, although the show follows the exploits of players for the Rockford Peaches, just like in the film.
It’s 1943 when we first meet protagonist Carson Shaw (Jacobson) in Lake Valley, Idaho running for the train, a baseball bat sticking out of her bag, presumably on her way to try out for AAGPBL. This is the first of many direct homages to the film, most of which unfortunately feel forced or, as in a later episode where a character repeats Tom Hanks’ famous “there’s no crying in baseball” line, completely stripped of the emotional heft or natural humor they had in the film. This, it turns out, is one of the main flaws in the show’s execution.
In the pilot, which was directed by Jamie Babbit (“But I’m A Cheerleader”), there’s an overemphasis on broad humor – here Carson’s bra is completely exposed – that just doesn’t work. Worse, the emotional investment the film gave the audience by not only establishing the personal relationship between Kit (Lori Petty) and Dottie (Geena Davis), but also that of Marla (Megan Cavanagh) and her father (Eddie Jones) is nowhere to be found. All we know about Carson before she arrives for the tryouts is that she has a husband, Charlie (Patrick J. Adams), off at war and it’s her turn to bring the pie to church this week.
While Jacobson’s performance as Carson through most of the season feels a little too modern, her comedy too broad, her speech patterns too contemporary, some of the other cast members fare better. D’Arcy Carden (“The Good Place”) shines as Greta, Carson’s first friend and eventual love interest. But again, her character having a corollary from the original film does both a disservice. She’s introduced with a butch best friend Jo Deluca (Melanie Field) and the duo are clearly modeled after the characters played by Madonna and Roise O’Donnell in Marshall’s film. Yet their friend chemistry dissipates after the pilot and when what should be a huge emotional beat happens in the penultimate episode, the show has spent so little time with them its impact is dulled.
There’s some attempt to show how the league pressed Latinx women to downplay their heritage with the characters of Lupe (Roberta Colindrez, “Vida”) and Esti (Priscilla Delgado, “Julieta”). Still, again it’s peppered in so sparsely that when the two do finally have a highlight scene together towards the end of the season it exposes just how lacking their representation had been for the earlier part of the season. Also, there is a storyline with Lupe that at first trades in stereotypes that later is revealed to be a way for Carson to understand her own white privilege that just does not land the way the writers clearly had intended.
Ironically, the aspect of the show that works best is the part that has the least to do with the AAGPBL or the 1992 film. Where that film had one scene that alluded to the exclusion of Black women from the league, this version dedicates almost half the show to what the reality would be like for the Black women who were excluded.
At the tryouts in Chicago, Max (Chanté Adams, “A Journal for Jordan”), accompanied by her friend Clance (Gbemisola Ikumel, “Famalam”), throws one hell of a pitch before being told by the organizers that the league is not for her. The two head back to their hometown of Rockford where Max at first works in her mother’s salon and later in a screw factory. Their friend chemistry is palpable and the audience is immediately drawn into the emotional stakes of their lives. Through these characters, the show explores the integration of wartime factories, and discrimination at places white people take for granted like the deli counter, Black capitalism, and more. Also, just about the only time the show acknowledges the human cost of WWII raging in the background is when Clance’s husband is drafted.
Unfortunately, even though every episode oscillates between what’s happening with the girls in the league and Max and Clance at the factory, their lives rarely intersect in Rockford. While this absolutely can be chalked up to the separate but equal mentality of the time, because these threads most often do not intersect thematically either, the halves are like two shows glued together. And one is infinitely better than the other.
The show is at its best when the halves do thematically link, as when it explores the internal struggles both Carson and Max have with their queerness. The season’s stand-out episode “Stealing Home,” which was directed by co-creator Graham, features a striking guest appearance by original cast member O’Donnell as Vi, the butch owner of an underground club for (primarily white) queer people. Max finds herself in a similar moment of joy while reconnecting with her mother’s estranged sibling Bertie (Lea Robinson). The episode digs deep into the well of feelings a queer person has the first time they realize not only are there other people like them, but there might be a life for them as their authentic selves.
But where is the baseball in this baseball show? Technically, it’s there in every episode, with requisite practices and games. But other than Max, none of the characters get many chances to show why they love the game. The filming of the playing also leaves something to be desired, with the directors often using strange zooms to show more heft for swings and hits than I guess the actors can actually achieve. Nick Offerman has a supporting role early on as their disinterested coach, but he so under-plays the role that when he disappears halfway through the show there is no emotional weight to his departure.
Somehow the season stretches the original premise to nearly eight hours, and yet we barely get to know most of the characters – Max and Clance, a notable exception – beyond their sexuality and their ability to play baseball. Although, again, even that is shortchanged. Do any of them have a sense of humor? What do they want out of life? Is anyone married? Occasionally personal details are dropped, but mostly in service of some lesson another character needs to learn rather than for the sake of good old-fashioned character development.
While this new iteration of “A League of Their Own” has its heart in the right place, it tries to do too much and succeeds in doing very little in the end. A cliffhanger ending suggests where a second season would pick back up, which could perhaps give some of the underdeveloped characters more screen time. Many of these actresses are doing the best they can with the material and deserve another swing, but as it stands now the show is no home run. [C]
