rowing up with bedtime stories about Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Joe Jackson, Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) can’t help but to be obsessed with baseball. His father even played in the minor leagues for a couple of seasons, but it didn’t amount to much. Now, at the age of 36, he’s becoming a farmer, alongside his wife Annie (Amy Madigan) and their young daughter Karin (Gaby Hoffman), having purchased a sizable cornfield in Iowa. Not long into his newfound career, he’s plagued by a repeating whisper from the ether. “If you build it, he will come.”

“Are you really hearing voices?” Annie hasn’t heard anything, nor have any of the townsfolk, who assume he’s a bit peculiar. As it turns out, Ray also has a vision of what the haunting voice is suggesting – that he build a baseball diamond on his acreage, which will magically summon “Shoeless” Joe Jackson himself to play. However, Jackson is dead – plus, he was a disgraced star, having been banned from the sport for throwing a World Series.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” The initial setup is primed for a horror movie, what with the isolation, the tall stalks of corn obscuring clear views, and the hushed voice, but it’s soon apparent that this is a lighthearted family fantasy instead. Weirdly enough, a ghostly figure does arrive, which contrasts strikingly with the previous, very realistic conversation about a mortgage, the decreased area for crop-growing, and the cost of having built a baseball field, which could cut short the Kinsellas’ business prospects. “Field of Dreams” has to be one of the strangest of all ghost stories, as it’s never once designed around chills or the inherent eeriness of the supernatural afterlife; it’s about second chances, wishes, and revisiting past glories.

“We’re dealing with primal forces of nature!” As it turns out, the manifestation of long-dead baseball greats isn’t just an opportunity for Ray to celebrate a beloved sport; it’s ultimately a way for him to reminisce about childhood experiences, reconnect with his father and better understand the man’s life choices (even after his death), and to contend with thoughts about unintentionally repeating his father’s decisions. He’s also compelled to meet novelist and satirist Terence Mann (James Earl Jones) – and attend a ballgame with him at Fenway. Despite its sense of divine intervention guiding Ray toward doing something socially profound, the plot makes little sense; events happen as if made up spontaneously, like a mystery that steadily solves itself without genuine sleuthing by the lead characters.

Sure enough, the heavenly voice continues to prod Ray into becoming less and less responsible, hellbent on pursuing random people across the country, which puts his wife’s wellbeing and general financial status into hot water. But with gentle music by James Horner and quiet conversations about soured relationships and potential reconciliations, the film eventually spells out its purpose, explaining this bizarre scenario as a specialized penance for Ray’s failure to make amends with his father. And it’s also about a compelling longing for a comforting, peaceful past and the healing power of baseball (or nostalgia) – universal, transformative, thought-provoking concepts. The end result may be highly unusual (and noncommercial) and untraditionally un-cinematic (the fantasy portion is so considerable that perhaps none of it is literal, while a resolution never really materializes), but it’s nevertheless sweet and touching, embellished with moments of effective humor and stirring sentimentality (somewhat comparable to the tone and themes and emotions of “Cocoon”). “Unbelievable!”

– Mike Massie