I recently watched the 2008 film The Great Buck Howard, a delightful flick that’s a look into the lifestyles of the once-famous. Bob Mondello of NPR offered a succinct plot summary: “A law student named Troy (Colin Hanks) drops out midsemester to take a dead-end job as assistant to the title character — a cornball Kreskin-style mentalist (John Malkovich) who is distinctly over the hill but decidedly still full of himself.” The rest of the cast is wonderful: Emily Blunt supports as Hanks’s love interest, a beleaguered publicist who is sick of Buck the moment she meets him but nevertheless supports him. Hanks’s famous father, Tom (yes, that Tom) even makes a few appearances as his character’s dad.
I had never heard of this film until I saw it streaming on Peacock. Maybe that’s normal: it’s on critic Leonard Maltin’s list of “151 Best Movies You’ve Never Seen” (I win this time, Lenny), so it must have flown under the radar on release. It really feels like a movie that could pop up on TBS every few months, and it’s got undeniable charm, undoubtedly due to its origin: writer/director Sean McGinly was inspired to create the film after his own stint as road manager for the Amazing Kreskin, a Canadian mentalist whose popularity peaked in the ‘70s.
Identical to the real-life Kreskin, on whom he is based, Buck was once Johnny Carson’s favorite guest on The Tonight Show, boasting 61 appearances, but that was then and this is now. Today, Buck lives on the road. He headlines at cultural centers and high school auditoriums across the country and performs in lesser-known American towns like Akron, OH and Wasau, WI. Not exactly what you imagine when you hear “showbiz.” Nevertheless, Buck still sees himself as “Great” — a title bestowed upon him by Carson — and his comportment makes that clear. The man is proud of who he is and proud of what he does, which makes the little indignities he suffers throughout the film all the more funny.
“Is there anyone better than John Malkovich at barely containing his temper?” noted critic Roger Ebert. “He gravitates toward characters who do not suffer fools lightly, and that would include the Great Buck Howard.” On his backwoods tour, Buck has to take what he can get, and the people in charge of keeping him happy are painfully amateurish. If you’re familiar with Malkovich’s career, you probably see where this is going. Buck’s outbursts and insistence that things are done his way often leave bystanders perplexed by the righteous anger behind his seemingly petty complaints. This dynamic is the foundation of the movie’s effective humor.
Each year growing up, I frequented the Back Porch Theater at the Pasco County Fair, where mentalists, magicians, and hypnotists made their rent before heading off to another city, another state for next week’s show. What I remember most is their unfailing professionalism, the workmanship with which they performed, and the convincing enthusiasm with which they pandered: “I look forward to coming here every year! This town has the best crowds.”
None of us minded that they lied. We liked feeling special. Similarly, Buck arrives in every city with a full heart. “Malkovich invests him with self-importance and yet slyly suggests it’s not all an act,” Ebert said. “You believe at some level Buck really does love that town, and also when he says, as he always does, ‘I love you people!’ ”
This is the charm of the road performer. Buck is particular because he genuinely cares about making people happy. It’s his job. He insists upon consistency because though the venue, the crowd, and his mood may change, one thing must remain exactly the same every single night: his act. The audience paid hard-earned money to see his show, so he performs precisely and with zeal because people are counting on him, and he must never fail to amaze them.
Watching mentalists, magicians, and hypnotists, I never cared about their personal life, and although I was curious about their tricks, it didn’t bother me that I couldn’t figure them out. The performance was the only thing that mattered to me. The movie understands the necessity of that opaqueness. We never find out how much of the Buck we see is real, nor do we ever get a clue about Buck’s personal life. He remains a mystery until the end, just like the secrets to his tricks.
The Great Buck Howard has all the wholesome charm of a mentalist’s trick. Its earnestness disarms us and its performers draw us in. We leave entertained, still scratching our heads with wonder.
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