I don’t know how to quantify baseball movies to discern if one is better than another. Field of Dreams just resonates with me more deeply than others.
I distrust sentimentality because it is so easily exploited by demagogues. But for me Field of Dreams transcends the narrow scar of sentimentality.
For me, it’s a recollection of something sewn into the fabric of my childhood that intersects with something deeper and more vibrant than myself. I like being reacquainted with that spring-like purity as often as I can.
Other films don’t do that for me, and they are no less worthy of enjoyment because of it. Field of Dreams just makes all eight of my cylinders fire in the perfect sequence. To me it’s like Music.