'A League of Their Own' Review: Prime Video Series Is a Whole New Ballgame

A League of Their Own review: This Rockford Peaches reboot hits the sugariness spot

Amazon's update of Penny Marshall'south archetype 1992 film expands the Peaches' universe in diverse and meaningful ways.

In today's Telly landscape, "reboot" is generally a dingy word, signaling a lack of imagination and a calcified cynicism about what the industry believes viewers want (or, at the very least, what they'll settle for). Just Amazon Prime Video's A League of Their Own is less a reboot than it is a spiritual sister to Penny Marshall's classic 1992 motion-picture show. The eight-episode dramedy, created by Abbi Jacobson (Wide City) and Volition Graham (Mozart in the Jungle), constructs a diverse and three-dimensional earth to tell the story of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, whereas the film — wonderful as it is — could only show us the Hollywood-glossy surface.

When we first meet Carson Shaw (Jacobson), she is racing for the railroad train to Chicago, literally fleeing the tiresome domesticity of her life equally a housewife in 1943 Idaho for a shot at the large leagues. She's one of hundreds of women invited to try out for the newly founded AAGPBL, a venture dreamt upwardly by baseball execs looking to keep the game going while America's able-bodied men fight for freedom overseas.

Carson lands a spot on the Rockford Peaches, along with leggy bombshell Greta (D'Arcy Carden); slugger Jo Deluca (Melanie Field); Jess (Kelly McCormack), a no-nonsense outfielder; Esti (Priscilla Delgado), a lightning-fast teenager from Cuba; Shirley Cohen (Kate Berlant), a neurotic stats whiz; Maybelle Fox (Molly Ephraim), a bubbly eye fielder; and Lupe (Roberta Colindrez), a talented pitcher dubbed the "Spanish Striker" by announcers even though she's from Mexico. But Max (Chanté Adams), a local hopeful with an arm like a rocket launcher, isn't even allowed to try out — this is still 1940s America, and only white (and white-passing) women need apply.

Though there are some perfunctory nods to the film — the Peaches balk at the idea of playing in skirts; their coach, Pigeon (Nick Offerman), acts like a condescending boor; more than ane person says "In that location's no crying in baseball game" — A League of Their Ain follows its ain playbook from the first episode. Time away from her soldier husband (Patrick J. Adams) frees Carson upward to place what she really wants, and that turns out to be Greta. The picture poked plenty of fun at the league's existent-life rules virtually charm school preparation and "ladylike" beliefs, but the show lets its characters say the quiet role out loud. "Why practise you think they're doing all this, Carson?" Greta hisses to her teammate during a mandatory makeover. "It'southward to make sure we don't await like a bunch of queers."

A League of Their Own

Gbemisola Ikumelo and Chanté Adams in 'A League of Their Ain'

| Credit: Anne Marie Play a joke on/Prime number Video

The change in medium and era allows Jacobson and Graham to construct a deeper narrative around women seeking not just camaraderie just community. For players like Greta and Carson and then many others, the league is a safe oasis from a hostile society that shuns them and a legal arrangement that jails them for the offense of "sexual inversion." For players like Max, nonetheless, no such sanctuary exists — and so A League of Their Own follows her story on a separate track, rather than tossing her in with the Peaches through some anachronistic plot dodge. Max is a Black adult female who wants to play baseball, simply she's also a Black queer woman who knows she'll never exist happy with the life her female parent (Saidah Arrika Ekulona) wants for her.

Not deterred past the AAGPBL's rejection, Max gets a job at a local factory in the hopes of landing a spot on the minor league squad the owner sponsors. She may not have a league, but Max has the unwavering devotion of her best friend, Clance (Gbemisola Ikumelo), a newly married comic book fan and aspiring artist who knows Captain America is propaganda and The Wizard of Oz is just an allegory for colonial oppression. Adams and Ikumelo are an immensely likable comedic duo, and at times Max and Clance threaten to steal the show out from nether the Peaches' skirts. But the ensemble has a strong defense lineup: Carden brings vulnerability and an undeniable sexiness to Greta, whose saucy charm masks a survivor'southward hypervigilance. Jacobson lends her cocky-effacing charm to Carson, serving equally the fifty-fifty-keeled anchor to the ensemble of comedic character actresses.

The writers exercise a commendable job keeping Carson and Max's parallel arcs afloat while squeezing in some subplots for the superlative supporting players — but later episodes of League buckle a fleck under the weight of so much story. And Offerman's character just sort of disappears halfway through the season, an odd changeup that felt a little "Amazon execs wanted someone in the Tom Hanks role for the trailer" to me.

But none of that really mattered when it came time for the finale, a barn burner of an hour that blends a legitimately moving championship climax with a disquisitional relationship cliffhanger. Like the Peaches, A League of Their Own hasn't yet perfected its game, just there'southward most no doubt these girls of summertime will be back. B+

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