In 1919, one of the most shameful events in American sports came to pass, as the Chicago White Sox gave up the World Series for a fistful of cash. Seventy years later, filmmaker John Sayles traced the evolution and fallout of the fix, in this meticulous period piece that's part snappy crowd pleaser, part cautionary labor lesson.

With its popular subject matter and top-line stars -- including John Cusack and Charlie Sheen -- Eight Men Out easily became Sayles' most visible and successful film of his first half-dozen efforts. It's also a comfortable companion piece for his previous movie, Matewan, another detailed period drama about worker abuses and labor woes.

In the mid-1910s, the White Sox were a huge part of Chicago's fabric. In 1917, they'd won the World Series for the first time in 11 years, and had the horses to do it again in '19. But when their star efforts went unrewarded by stingy team owner Charley Comiskey (Clifton James), it was easy to find trouble -- and, as Sayles illustrates, trouble came looking for them.

In swanky bars and ritzy restaurants, a complicated cadre of gamblers led by the infamous Arnold Rothstein (Michael Lerner) approached players with a proposition: Get enough guys to blow the Series and we'll line your pockets.

According to lore, eight guys took the deal. Sayles spends time spying on most of the decision makers and, remarkably, keeps the story rolling. The straight-arrow conscience of the team is Buck Weaver (Cusack); he's tough on the field, a hero with the kids, and clean as whistle. The sympathy role is that of pitcher Eddie Cicotte, a combination of tragedy and pride as only David Strathairn can deliver. It's against Cicotte's nature to cheat, but responsibility to family and a disrespectful boss push him too far. (Sound like a Bruce Springsteen song? It's no surprise that Sayles had directed three Springsteen videos.)

The rest of the team sort of takes it as it comes. So while the well-dressed underworld keeps popping up in their lives, it seems like just another day at the park. Sayles' strategy is to impart the matter-of-fact lightheartedness; when disaster hits, it feels all the more dramatic. It's as if the consequences of the players' actions sneak up on them. And us.

Sayles and writer Studs Terkel appear as a Greek chorus of sorts, Ring Lardner and Hugh Fullerton, the traveling sportswriters who followed -- and predicted -- the Sox's demise as it was happening. Sayles has never been much of an actor, but his singing of "I'm Forever Blowing Ballgames" has become a treasured part of the film.

Whether or not you appreciate the narrative, it's impossible not to get caught up in the film's time-capsule production design (by Nora Chavooshian, who designed two previous Sayles movies). From the streets to the baseball diamond, the design is a celebration of the era, all natty clothes, rumbling trains, and warm cocktail lounges.

As many baseball fans know, there's controversy surrounding the actions of all eight men. Legend says the participation of the great Shoeless Joe Jackson (D.B. Sweeney), a farmboy illiterate, was questionable. So many decades later, history has placed him in a place of eternal punishment. But Sayles imagines his own short-term future for Jackson, a fitting conclusion to a true story that's become folklore with time.

The new 20th Anniversary DVD includes commentary from Sayles and three making-of featurettes and retrospectives.

Aka 8 Men Out.