Everything Everywhere All at Once Worst Best Picture Ever

 

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE (2022)

Directed by Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert

A24 Films, 132 minutes, R (language, gross-out humor, drug use, violence)

★

 

 

Oscar Best Picture winners are often mysterious. How did the Academy prefer My Fair Lady over Becket or Dr. Strangelove in 1964, or Kramer vs. Kramer over Apocalypse Now in 1979? Sometimes the bar is dropped lower to honor such now embarrassing choices such as Rocky (1975), Terms of Endearment (1983), Forest Gump (1994), and Gladiator (2000), offerings that were little more than a decent way to while away a few hours.

 

This brings me to Everything Everywhere All at Once, which holds the dubious honor of being the worst choice ever made by the Academy. I hesitate even to call it a “movie;” it’s little more than a live-action video game as might have been developed by a novice gamer who lucked into a big budget.

 

Let’s get this out of the way. I like Michelle Yeoh a lot and it’s criminal she has had to play so many stereotypical roles. Still, I didn’t like her as a kung fu queen when she was 37 (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) and I’m not buying it 23 years later. I also enjoy contemplating other dimensions and time periods in some movies–Donnie Darko, The Matrix, Source Code–and it would be hypocritical for me a Star Trek geek, to criticize science fiction. I even enjoy the Marvel universe in small doses, as in comic books and summer blockbusters.

 

Everything Everywhere doesn’t belong in the same category as any of the above. It has been variously labeled as "comedy drama," "sci-fi,” “fantasy,” “surrealism,” and “adventure.” Evelyn Wang (Yeoh) is an older and overwhelmed laundromat owner about to be served divorce papers by her husband Waymond (Ke Huy Quan). As if she needs more grief. She’s taking care of her demanding elderly father Gong Gong (James Hong), has an acrimonious relationship with her daughter Joy (Stephanie Hue) about to come out as a lesbian, hates customers like Big Nose,* and her business finances are such a mess that IRS auditor Deirdre Beaubeirdre (Jamie Lee Curtis) threatens government seizure of her assets.

 

This alone is material for a good movie, but directors Kwan and Scheinert, who inexplicably won Best Director Oscars–mucked up matters with an absurd–as opposed to absurdist–foray into the multiverse. Yeah, yeah, I know this is oh-so-trendy these days. That also makes it overdone enough to invite comparisons. Evelyn is somehow the key to making sure that Jobu Tupaki (Hsu) doesn’t unleash a singularity that might (it’s unclear) destroy all things, including various other dimensions in which the major characters appear in radically different roles. She, akin to Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey observations, is reluctant to take on the task. At the speed of a mouse click, she is shown alternative fates–opera singer, Deirdre’s hotdog-fingered lover, corpse, and Kung Fu mistress–at the speed of a mouse click. Some tempt her–shades of Matt Haig’s novel The Midnight Library–but her reluctance rises when she finds out that Joy is Jobu.

 

And now it’s time to ratchet the silliness quotient. How about another dimension where fingers are shaped like long, limp hotdogs? What if they turn into penises? How about bad guys who get energy to fight by lowering their pants to land upon phallic statues? Characters wear ear buds that activate dimensional shifts after the wearer swallows disgusting things and pushes a green button. (Repeat to supercharge powers as they wane.) Did I mention the Ratatouille spinoff involving a chef who hides his support/advisor raccoon under his toque blanche? Or that Yeoh and Curtis are rocks in one dimension? At some point the entire tenor of the movie changes and green buttons become “Google eyes” as the plot plods toward a Hallmark ending. And, yes, the singularity is actually a giant black bagel with everything? (Get it?)

 

Has American discourse degenerated to such depths that critics can actually say this movie probes issues of nihilism versus existentialism? Let’s be frank. This should be a summer movie that you attend with a few friends. Afterward the debate is between, “What was that mess?” versus “I dunno, I kind of liked it.” All I can think is that it must have looked a whole lot better on a smartphone screen. If this is what we can expect from the “new” Academy–lots of Millennials I gather–you can safely skip the Oscars from now on.

 

Rob Weir

 

* If you saw the film in a theater, “Big Nose” (Jenny Slate) was changed to “Debbie the Dog Mom,” after complaints that Slate’s character stereotyped Jews. It does, but the Academy overlooked that as well.

Lapvona: Brilliant or Distressing?

 

LAPVONA (2022)

By Ottessa Moshfegh

Penguin, 304 pages

★★★★

 

 

Lapvona, the fourth novel of Boston-born novelist Ottessa Moshfegh, is a strange book. Moshfegh has an unapologetic taste for the macabre and unsavory, which means readers will be either thrilled or unnerved.

 

Lapvona references a small fiefdom whose outward setting is medieval, perhaps during the tail end of the Black Death. It’s also, though, a satirical allegory of capitalism and the ways in which corruption and community collide. Moshfegh is on record as saying if the book has a moral, it’s a rejection of the ancient Roman notion that human fate is controlled by Fortuna, the goddess of luck. In her worldview, belief in random fate is a convenient cover for conscious choice.

 

Moshfegh is a skilled stylist, but this doesn’t make her plotlines easy to decipher. She blends plausibility with elements suggestive of magical realism and delves into themes of superstition, dreaming, bewitching, and cannabis use. Lapvona also makes use of extended metaphors of sight versus blindness and the thinness of barriers between life and death and the natural and spirit worlds.

 

Marek is the centerpiece of the novel. He is the son of Jude, the village shepherd, who has mixed feelings about the physically deformed Marek. His ugliness is remarked upon by villagers–until it’s not. His lambs are Jude’s biggest love since his wife disappeared; he is deeply anguished whenever he must sell some of them for meat to mysterious Northerners.

 

Lapvona is controlled by Villiam, a local lord, who is vain, profligate, clueless, and corrupt. His son Jacob is Marek’s opposite: handsome, immaculate in dress, and well-educated. Marek and Jacob are also related despite their social gulf. Villiam really cares only for himself, so when Marek kills (accidently or not!) Jacob, Villiam simply takes Marek as his son. Other major characters include Villiam’s wife Dibra and her horseman lover Luka; Lispeth, who was betrothed to Jacob and becomes Marek’s resentful serving girl; Father Barnabas, a faithless priest interested in luxury and power; Agata, Jude’s ex-wife who reappears after 13 years; and Grigor, a peasant with contempt for the rich. Bandits also play a role, though they are undefined and may actually be in cahoots with Villiam. Finally, there is Ina, a blind old woman (witch?) who has never been pregnant yet has been a wet nurse for decades.

 

Like Monty Python’s Camelot, Lapvona is a land in which the powerful enjoy the fruits of life and the peasants stink from sweat and layers of various varieties of excrement. The book is arranged calendrically, from spring to spring. The first spring finds the land verdant, Jude cuddling his lambs, and Jude’s relief to be rid of Marek.

 

 

 

Summer invites Covid comparisons. A horrible drought parches the land and brings starvation, raids, decimation of pets and livestock, villagers reduced to eating mud, and cannibalism. Dibra and Luka exit, and Ina ends up with the eyes of a horse that restores her vision and causes her to reverse aging. Of course, not everyone starves; Villiam, Barnabas, and Marek eat very well, the later transforming himself into a little tyrant in his own right. (And suddenly no one comments publicly on his deformity!) 

 

Fall sees the return of rain and the impact of Agata’s return. She has been a servant in a nunnery and is now tongueless and pregnant. When she is examined and declared a virgin–she’s assuredly not–Villiam marries her in the superstitious belief that she is bearing the new Christ child and he will become the new Joseph. All that’s crystal clear is that neither Agata nor Jude want anything to do with Marek.

 

Winter sees Marek’s descent into alcoholism, the death of Villiam, the demise of Father Barnabas demise, and the dismantling of the church. The new spring finds Ina increasingly youthful and Marek the lord of the manor, but you should not anticipate happily-ever-after in a book such as this. The ending is ambiguous, but might be the most horrifying thing in the book.

 

Lest you think I’ve given away too much, know that the plot is window dressing for the aforementioned themes that run throughout the book. In other words, it’s the context, more than the narrative, that makes Lavona tick. Moshfegh has both admirers and those who find her work repulsive. I can only assure you Lavona is not cut from threadbare cloth and that you will contemplate the meaning of its cover art.

 

Rob Weir

Banshees of Inisherin: The True Best Picture

 

THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN (2022)

Directed and written by Martin McDonagh

Searchlight Pictures, 114 minutes, R (language, violence, brief nudity)

★★★★★

 

 

The Banshees of Inisherin was easily the class of all Oscar-nominated films for Best Picture. It didn’t win any Oscars, but it’s often the case that the Academy fails to honor quality.

 

The Banshees of Inisherin is Irish, stylish, and quiet, even when violent. Call it the kind of film even the reconstituted Academy deems too “European,” whatever that might mean. It is set in 1923 during the Irish Civil War. In brief, today’s Republic of Ireland won a measure of independence from Great Britain in 1921, but aspects of the peace treaty led the Irish to turn on each other. Especially vexsome for the Catholic south was that six Protestant counties that now make up Northern Ireland remained part of Britain.  

 

Other than distant rumbling and artillery flashes on the horizon, the Civil War had little impact on Inisherin. The movie was shot in the Aran Isles off the coast of Galway, though director Martin McDonagh took steps to disguise that. The cinematography is spectacular, but Inisherin is fictional–it translates as “island of Ireland”–because McDonagh’s wished to depict its insularity, not situate it within any broader upheaval. His tale is deeply individualized and psychological, not political. 

 

Inisherin is ruled by patterns. Grasp that, or you’ll not understand how a small spat upends the social balance. Padráic Súilleabhin (Colin Ferrell) and Colm Doherty (Brendan Gleeson) customarily meet at a set time to share pints and small talk at the local pub, the village’s only real focal point. One day Colm informs Padráic that he doesn’t want to talk to him again, his explanation being that Padráic is “dull” and too “nice,” and he’d rather devote himself to his music. This strikes Padráic as unsatisfying; everyone in Inisherin is so dull that it’s as if collective depression rolled in with the morning tide. Only the global folk art inside Colm’s house hints of intrusions from the outside world.

 

Padráic has no other friends aside from his live-in sister Siobhán, and his donkey Jenny. The very thought of being abandoned by Colm throws Padráic into a petulant existential crisis. The more he pesters Colm, though, the deeper his resolve to be left alone grows until he, the village’s premier fiddle player, tells Padráic that he will cut off one of his own fingers each time Padráic speaks to him. Alas, Padráic is too despondent to stay silent even after Colm flings the pinky of his fiddle hand at Padráic’s door. And so it goes, though everyone in the village tries to warn Padráic to back off.  

 

The gruesome, symbolic shedding of blood also severs other frayed village norms. With exception of the local publican, everyone in Inisherin is so frozen in place that they echo each other’s remarks. We witness subplots involving Dominic Kearney (Barry Keoghan), a cleanliness-challenged youth who functions as the village “eejit,” though there’s a later revelation involving his swaggering father Peadar (Gary Lydon), a brutal local Garda (policeman). Poor Dominic is so damaged that he dares wonder if Siobhán would be his girlfriend. She too is at wit’s end and applies for a library job on the mainland. Even the local priest is disengaged and operating on autopilot. Stasis is so pervasive that when Padráic loses his temper and announces he’s tired of being nice, Colm announces that Padráic hasn’t been that interesting in years. By then, though, the damage has been done and there’s no turning back.

 

“The Banshees of Inisherin” is the name of the fiddle piece Colm is writing before he loses his digits, so we never actually hear the film’s namesake tune. The overall score by Carter Burwell really enhances the film, but know that in Irish folklore banshees are ominous female spirits that portend death. McDonagh has claimed there are no banshees in the film, but I suspect he was having a joke on reviewers, as Mrs. McCormick (Sheila Flitton) meets all bansee criteria and locals go out of their way to avoid her. Banshees is a film in which metaphors abound and the borders blur between myth and reality. Failure to get that lies behind the complaint of several Irish critics who charged that McDonagh dealt in stereotypes. My advice to them is: Don’t be so bloody literal! The Banshees of Inisherin is unsettling, but take the preceding advice and marvel at this small pot of gold.

 

Rob Weir

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do Liberals Feed the Right?

 

Liberal Fallacies

 

 

 

Democracy is imperiled. It saddens me to say it, but liberals are complicit in digging its grave. Too often they are as contemptuous of freedom as the hard right. Some examples:

 

·      The Easthampton school board rescinded its superintendency offer to Vito Perrone because he used the term “ladies” in an email. A woman on the board charged him with a “microaggression,” though how she could infer that from an email is mysterious. (Do I smell sour grapes over the original 4-3 vote?)  Fox News lampooned this and for once its judgment was fair and balanced.

 

·      Jeff Jacoby, a Boston Globe columnist who infuriates me more than he enlightens, recently argued that working-class voters have left the Democratic Party because it long ago left them. As a labor historian, I’d say there is considerable evidence to that charge.

 

·      College presidents have been attacked for uttering “All lives matter.” One might think that would be a given but in twisted reasoning, only “black lives matter” is politically correct. Red-meat neo-cons counter that such a restrictive position insults the 86 percent that are not black.

 

·      Higher ed is embroiled in disputes over pronouns and (sigh!) microaggressions. Matters have gotten so heated that they are easy pickings for those who coined the term “snowflake.”

           

·      Cancel culture advocates topple monuments and question why they should have to study anything or anybody they find irredeemable. Congratulations! You’ve just ceded the high ground to those who would return us to Thomas Carlyle’s Great Man Theory of history.

 

Democracy and free speech are inextricably linked. As Noam Chomsky noted, unless you affirm the right of someone to say things that you find abhorrent, you do not support free speech. Utterances can be unsettling, but there’s not an iota of difference between banning words and banning books. It is certainly not free speech to declare microaggressions when someone says something that upsets you.

 

I appreciate the fatigue involved for those tasked with constantly explaining their viewpoints, but liberals need to think about framing. Motives they think are pure and clear often sound like special privileges to those carrying their own burdens. When, for example, wage earners feel imperiled and ignored, they listen when the right screams, “special interest groups!” And you can bet they won’t care about anyone’s pronouns. Unless you welcome a war of all against all, messages and policies must be shaped as if all lives–black, brown, red, white, yellow–matter. You’re not “woke” if you don’t get that.

 

Cancel culture is good at anger, but sucks at analysis. In most* cases the rational course is to use controversial ideas, events, people, and things to educate. If that doesn’t persuade, learn from recent history.** Why would anyone assume that weaponized left-leaning ideals will prevail? Prep the soil for the return of Trump or a Trump Lite and you can wave a surrender flag. 

 

There is a world of difference between content and context. Perrone’s intention was politeness. Language evolves so fast that few can keep up. A friend recently pointed out that the term “grooming” is now problematic. I was grateful, as I had no idea; it’s printed on the side of my beard trimmer!

 

It's a good idea to clean your own house before castigating others. I never use certain words, but I have to say that mostly I hear the B-or S-words applied to women from the lips of other women. Black hip hop artists routinely used the N-word. Some claim such words are okay as in-group lingo. Really? I always thought one was supposed to model behavior you’d like others to emulate.

 

Finally, can we learn to distinguish bad actors from those who are mistake-prone and imperfect? (Read: All of humankind.) There’s a recall campaign in Easthampton. I hope it succeeds. A board member that lacks the wisdom to distinguish intention from a benign word, tried to drag another into the debate without her permission, and introduced new complaints after she was called out, has no business making decisions for our oh-so-imperfect commodity: young people.

 

* Reason must prevail. For instance, no person of color should have to pass a monument to a KKK advocate when voting.

 

**Ask Mainers what happened to a Frances Perkins mural under Paul LePage, or someone from Richmond who recalls when an Abraham Lincoln statue was routinely defaced.

 

 

The Magic Kingdom: Russell Banks' Farewell Novel

 

 

THE MAGIC KINGDOM (2022)

By Russell Banks

Alfred A. Knopf, 391 pages.

★★★★

 

 

 

Unless an undiscovered work appears, The Magic Kingdom is the final novel from Russell Banks, who died in January. It’s a fitting finale for a talented author who seldom shied away from difficult subjects. The title sounds as if this is an exposé about Disney. Actually, it deals mostly with a Shaker community that once stood on the grounds. It’s also the tale of Mann family, utopian dreams, and all-too-earthly temptations. 

 

We meet the Manns at a Ruskinite community in Graylag, Indiana as they are about to depart for Waycross Colony inn Georgia, for another utopian experiment. Constance and her husband welcome the idea of living in a biracial community in the Deep South, but they end up on the Rosewell Planation where white and black alike are enslaved in all but name. Their salvation comes in the form of Elder John Bennett, who tells them about Mother Ann Lee, the Shaker way of life, and their community near Narcoossee, Florida. Upon the death of her husband, Constance packs up her brood–Harley, his town brother Pence, Royal, Raymond, and Rachel–and make their way to the New Bethany Shakers. Think of it as journey from socialism to authoritarianism to religious idealism.

 

The tale is told as a reminiscence by Harley and covers the years 1902-72. A lot of the book is a lightly fictionalized version of actual people and events and focuses on the years 1902, when the Manns arrive at New Bethany, through 1915 when the community dissolves. Banks wrote a deeply moving and personal narrative as well as a historical novel. Names are changed, dialogue is invented, and some situations are imagined but you could read The Magic Kingdom and come away with a good base for reconstructing the past.

 

Twelve-year-old Harley takes to Elder John with such enthusiasm that he apes his words and mannerisms and takes intellectual interest in Shaker doctrine and principles. He even contemplates joining the community. If only he hadn’t met 19-year-old Sadie Pratt, who spends time with the Shakers when she’s well enough to visit from a nearby TB sanitarium. Though he is younger, Sadie is Harley’s forbidden fruit in a celibate community. Sadie likes Harley, but not the way he’d like–at least until he’s older.

 

Shakers were celibate, but they did not withdraw from the world like the Amish. Worldly temptations intrude upon Shakers, including the idiosyncratic beliefs of another community and World War I, but the real danger lies within. A decade later, Harley’s obsession with Sadie supplants his piety. As he and Sadie move closer together than John or Eldress Mary Glynn think (for good reasons) is appropriate, jealousy, imagination, and tragedy upset the delicate balance among the Shakers and allied outsiders who live and/or work there.  

 

Banks gives us a vivid view of Shaker routines, as well thrilling external threats provided by drought, a Florida freeze, fire, and the dueling stratagem between Elder John and Cyrus Teed of the Koreshan community. Things are fragile with the Manns as well, with Pence leaving New Bethany, Constance and several of the children opting to join the Shakers, and Harley lost in his lust.

 

As an old man living alone in a modest shotgun house with a model of New Bethany he built, Harley imagines himself responsible for New Bethany’s fall. He’s not entirely wrong. It might have failed on its own, but he played a major part in dramatic events involving accusation, homicide investigations, testimonies, recantations, allegations of financial malfeasance, heartbreak, and other unfortunate occurrences. Though ostracized, in many ways he’s the last New Bethany Shaker, albeit a repentant one. Ironically, as the head of Shaker Real Estate he witnessed the Shaker community crumble into scale and disposed of much of the land. A third party buys the bulk of it on behalf of an unknown client, but we know who that is! Harley observes, “I had seen with startling clarity … the fall of New Bethany and the rise of Disney’s Magic Kingdom.”

 

Is there anything more tragic than regret? The Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts” contains the lines: 'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free/'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be/And when we find ourselves in the place just right/'Twill be in the valley of love and delight. The only thing missing is the insight to recognize such things when they are at hand.

 

Rob Weir

 

For more on the real Florida community see: https://stars.library.ucf.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2699&context=fhq

 

Wikipedia gives a decent overview of the Shakers: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakers

2023 MLB Preview: American League

 

2023 American League Preview:

 

 

 

AL East:

 

Is this the year the Blue Jays finally win the East? If it’s not, something went wrong. Springer, Bichette, Guerrero, Chapman, Belt, Merrifield, etc. is a way better top-to-bottom lineup than anyone else in the East can send to the plate. The likely pitfall would be pitching, which is just an injury or an off-year away from being a real problem. The balanced schedule will help the Jays enormously as they tend to falter against the East as the season progresses.

 

The Red Sox get my vote for the team mostly likely to surprise. Devers, Turner, and Yoshida are professional hitters. Success, though, depends on the health of pitchers whose recent health has been shaky–see Kluber, Paxton, and Sale–and the performance of guys playing out of position. Arroyo at second and Hernandez at short might be the shakiest middle infield in MLB. The 4-5 pitchers haven’t shown much thus far and Casas might not be what they think they have.

 

Boston isn’t good enough to win the AL East, but they could battle the Orioles for a Wild Card. Baltimore is quietly building a nice young lineup–Mullins, Rutschman, Mountcastle, Santander–but the pitching could turn out to be mediocre unless Grayson Rodriguez is ready to shine.

 

The Rays are actually my pick for a Wild Card. You might not recognize some of the staff, but Tampa always seems to get a lot out of pitchers who are not household names. Their biggest problem, I suspect, will be scoring enough runs. Franco may become a superstar but he’s not there yet, and aside from Arozarena there’s not much power.  

 

The Yankees are my pick to have MLB’s most disappointing season in 2023. The Brian Cashman era simply needs to end. This is a poorly constructed team that needs to eat salaries of underperforming veterans, promote promising kids from the minors, and build a roster that gets on base more often. Their offense is Aaron Judge and a bunch of plow horses. Judge is great, but he won’t hit 62 homers again. It’s time to chuck the analytics staff and end the “launch angle” nonsense. The Yankees also need to fire their conditioning staff; the spring DL already looks like triage at a MASH unit. It would not surprise me to see New York tank. It also won’t surprise if Cole can’t pitch without Spider Tack, or if Cortes can’t duplicate 2022. Trading for Montas was just dumb.   

 

AL Central:

 

Let’s not sugarcoat it. Someone has to win the Central, but no one in it is likely to go far in the offseason. On paper, the White Sox have the best pitching and firepower. This, of course, is what everyone said last year when they failed to make the post-season. I’ll go with them, but not with a lot of confidence. My thinking is simply that Anderson, Robert, Benintendi, Moncada is a better lineup than anyone else in the Central. Cease and Giolito are good pitchers, as is Kopech if he stays off the DL, which he hasn’t done very often. Getting Clevinger will help, but I’m not a Lance Lynn fan.

 

There is no better manager in all of MLB than Terry Francona, so never count out the Guardians. It boggles the mind, though, to think of what Cleveland could do with a budget like that of the Yankees. Kwan, Naylor, Bell, and Ramirez are the offense, but they need more. Bieber and Quantrill are solid hurlers, but they’ll need better performances from Civale, Plesac, and McKenzie.  

 

Never bet on the Twins. If they win the Central it will be because others collapse. They actually intend to play Joey Gallo!!? Buxton finally had a good year in ’22 but I still don’t believe in him. Wanna bet whether Correa stays healthy? Not much stick in Minnesota. No great arms either unless you think Ryan’s stats last year are for real. I don’t. 

 

After a glimmer of hope the Tigers have taken a step backward. Not a single one of their starters threw a complete season last year. Their best hope for staying out of the basement is if the Royals suck more. That could be the case.

 

AL West:

 

This has the potential to be the most competitive division in the American League insofar as competing for Wild Cards goes. (The West could break the hearts of East Coast fans by taking all of them.) The Astros are both defending World Series champions and the class of the division, especially after stealing Abreu from the White Sox. No one can match their pitching. Javier, Urquidy, Valdez, and Garcia might sound like a Latino comedy act, but you won’t laugh when you face them. I hate the Astros, but Altuve, Brantley, Bregman, Tucker, Pena, and the rest are simply formidable. 

 

Will the Angels finally get Trout and Ohtani into a postseason? They’d better, or Ohtani will be gone. As always, though, the rest of the lineup fails to inspire unless you think Renfroe and Ward will duplicate last year’s numbers. Rendon was a bust and headlines a most-likely-to-be-dumped list. The pitching staff will frighten no one. Think 33-year-old Anderson will go 15-5 again? Nah!

 

If the Angels falter again, it’s back-up-the-van time and the door opens for the Mariners. Seattle, though, is another team that’s as likely to induce tears and cheers. If Ray or Castillo get injured, anyone reading this can try out to become a Mariners pitcher. The lineup will either be solid or have more holes than a fishing net and I wouldn’t be surprised either way. Julio Rodriguez is a fine player, but the Jays are good at evaluating talent and they shipped Teoscar Hernandez out of Canada, which makes me think they know something.

 

The Rangers would be my pick for the most surprising team in the division, if the pitching holds up. I wouldn’t hold my breath for deGrom to say healthy or Perez and Heaney to be more than mediocre. I like Semien, Seager, and Garcia but there are big holes in the lineup. All of which is to say, the Rangers could easily go from promise to a see-you-in-2024 team. But they won’t finish last.  

 

The Athletics are shedding players and salaries like Gypsy Rose Lee in cleats. They are playing for one thing only: attracting few enough patrons to move the club to Las Vegas. It will be a good year if they lose fewer than 100 games. Without looking, name an Oakland starting hitter or pitcher. Exactly!

 

 

 

 

 

2023 MLB Preview: National League

 

2023 National League Preview

 

 

 

NL East

 

This is a strong division that might send more teams to the playoffs than other.

 

Who will win it? The Braves are just a year removed from winning the World Series and always manage to have superb pitching. If they falter, it will be because Acuna and Albies fail to bounce back from their 2022 injuries and the durable Charlie Morton finally pitches his age. The rest of the lineup could struggle if Acuna and Albies don’t fully recover.

 

For the above uncertainties, the Mets are my pick to win the East. On paper, the pitching is dominant, as long Father Time doesn’t catch up with Verlander and Scherzer. Alonzo, Nimmo, Lindor, Marte, et al. should put a lot of runs on the scoreboard.

 

In my view, the Phillies simply got hot at an opportune time last year. They have lost Harper until around the All-Star break. In theory there is plenty of offense (Turner, Schwarber, Realmuto, Hoskins), but Nola and Wheeler, and Walker will have to pitch well for Philadelphia to get into the postseason. I think I’ve seen enough of Nola to be skeptical that he’s much more than a should-have-been.

     Note: Rhys Hoskins tore his ACL after this was written and will miss the 2023 season. Coupled with Harper's injury, this will hurt the Phillies very badly. Last year's NL champs might struggle to make the playoffs in 2023.

They aren’t good enough to win, but the Nationals get my vote for the division team that will be tougher than anyone thinks. Robles needs to be a stud again for that to happen and Corbin needs to pitch like he deserved the ridiculous contract Washington signed him to. They will struggle again, but they will show marked improvement if the young pitchers mature. If they don’t, it’s another last place finish.  

 

The Marlins have emerging young players and, in Alcantara, a perpetual Cy Young candidate. I doubt they will hit well enough to be much of a threat though. What the Fishburgers need more than anything is relocation to Montreal.

 

NL Central:

 

What’s up with teams in the middle of the country? Call this the other Perpetual Disappointment Division.

 

Never discount the Cardinals. Goldschmidt, Arenado, and Contreas can bash if others get on base. They freakin’ stole Montgomery from the Yankees to go with Flaherty, Mikolas, and the ageless Adam Wainwright. If Matz makes it back from injury–a big if–this is a very strong pitching staff. St. Louis could easily steal the NL Central.

 

The Brewers will go as far as bounce backs from Yelich, Naquin, Winkler, and a few others take them. This is a low OBP team that’s built a bit like the all-or-nothing Yankees. They’ll need to score runs as the pitching is Woodruff, Burnes, and pray for a miracle. Milwaukee might well end up the most disappointing team in the division.

 

The Cubs should be better this year. Taillon came over from the Yankees—detect a theme here?—but it could be young Hayden Wesneski that New York will most regret losing. Bellinger, Swanson, Mancini, Hosmer, and Gomes will like hitting in Wrigley Field and we know Ian Happ is a good player. They Cubbies are my surprise team for the division.

 

The Pirates need new management. They might be better but who knows? I’ve not heard of half their lineup and most of those I do know are over the hill. They will trade Reynolds, their best player, as soon as the price is right. I’m not seeing much on the staff except high ERAs and 43-year-old Rich Hill.

 

Still, Pittsburgh will probably be better than the Reds. The Reds lineup with Joey Votto on the shelf won’t cause pitchers to quake and anyone who still thinks Wil Myers has promise simply hasn’t been paying attention. The kindest thing to do would be to not mention Reds pitching. It’s heresy to say this about MLB’s oldest franchise, but it would a good idea to move Cincy to some place that cares. (Charlotte? Vancouver? Nashville? An NL team in Boston?)

 

NL West:

 

Until someone knocks them off–and I’m not seeing it–the Dodgers remain the class of the West. Betts, Freeman, Muncy, Will Smith, and new D.H. J.D. Martinez will drive in runs. Losing Lux to injury will hurt and I’ve no idea why they or anyone else wants Heyward, but it’s fair to ask how many runs they’ll need with pitching like Kershaw, Urias, Gonsolin, and Syndergaard racking up Ws in the standings.  

 

The Padres are the sexy pick unless, like me, you’ve seen them disappoint more often than a politician with his fingers crossed. Bogaerts, Soto, Machado, center a potentially explosive lineup. It doesn’t help to have Musgrove on the DL, but Darvish. Snell, and Wacha should pick up the slack. Do they have enough to dethrone the Dodgers? Doubtful. But if the Pads don’t get a Wild card, heads will roll.

 

Should San Diego stumble, the window opens for the Giants to bounce back and steal a Wild Card. That becomes a definite possibility if Wood, Cobb, and DeSclafani pitch to their capability (which they did not last year). The hitting isn’t as good as San Diego’s or as consistent as that of Los Angeles, but if Jupiter aligns with Mars, I think San Francisco will be the comeback team of the division.

 

The Rockies have a decent lineup—Bryant, Cron, Blackmon–but also a lot of injuries and question marks. I’ve seen sumo wrestlers with thinner profiles than Colorado’s team ERA. That must improve, or Arizona will dodge the basement.

 

The Diamondbacks improved their hitting by prying Gurriel from Toronto, but it looks like another long year in Phoenix. The pitching is so weak that they have no idea yet who will be the number 4 starter if Bumgarner is as done as he appears to be. Who the # 5 will be requires Nostradamus and a crystal ball.