"Goddamn, this bored the sleep crust out of my eyes. It’s a well-made little drama. Sadly, I just couldn’t muster up the energy to enjoy it."
Shame on me. I thought Buck Howard was a real person. He's sold that way in the press notes and the advertisements. I remember the Amazing Kreskin and his late night antics on both Johnny Carson and David Letterman. Walking into the Great Buck Howard, I'd forgotten his name, and thought I was watching a biopic about Kreskin's last days as a mentalist. The Howard character is based on Kreskin, and the film is written and directed by one of Kreskin's former assistants, Sean McGinly. Kreskin, who is still alive, even endorses the film. So you know that it doesn't look at his stated persona in an evil light. The movie isn't so much about this odd magician of sorts, it's about McGinly's time spent with the man, as embodied by everyone's favorite son Colin Hanks (actually, for my money, I'd gladly take Jason Ritter over Colin any day). Tom Hanks serves as a producer here, and even makes two appearances. Which is nice. The Great Buck Howard has its heart in the right place. It's thoughtful and interesting up until a point. But damn is it boring. I just straight up didn't care about it. Maybe because it lacks any sort of edge, or even a smidge of dark humor. It's a character study. The master and the apprentice. Maybe it's a little too personal. Or maybe it's just me. I didn't want to hang out with either one of these guys.
I can put my finger on why it was such a turn-off. That's easy. It has nothing to do with the script, or the actors. Hanks and John Malkovich (as the Great Buck Howard) are both fine. So is the supporting cast, which includes the irresistible Emily Blunt and the always welcome (until he makes Strange Wilderness Part 2) Steve Zahn. Heck, even Donnie Most shows up for a couple of seconds. How great is that? The problem with the film is its backdrop. Most of the action takes place in these old dusty concert halls made of fading wood and hard chairs. When you see that type of auditorium, your brain automatically screams: Depressing stage show! Watching Buck Howard perform in one dull, dead place after the next burned this precipice into my psyche. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to flee. Which is, I guess, the point. So I can't fault the location scout or the art director. They did their job perfectly. It's a little too good. The simple fact is: I didn't want to sit through one Great Buck Howard stage show, let alone an entire movie about them. I could feel every moment spent visiting some cheap fly-by-night live production during my childhood years. Those are memories I don't welcome. This thing smelt off, and wrong. I couldn't help feeling anything but bad for these characters.
Colin Hanks offers a slight distraction. Any time he walks into frame, I expect him to be funny. He carries the same goofy weight on his face that plagued his dad. The ticks and nods are pleasing in a nostalgic wave of trust. Tom just doesn't make the comedies he used to. Maybe Colin will fill that void. Nope! Instead, this kid is being drawn into a dramatic light. He's very good as Troy Gabel, the loyal assistant. He's just too serious. I want him to be funny. I want him to lift the material past those crusty old theater seats. But his energy slowly drifts into their velvety red fabric, and his musty story soon seems as appealing as a senior citizen talent show. The same goes for John Malkovich. His Buck Howard is an outstanding look at the mundane riches of Americana. He flashes onto the scene as the flamboyant embodiment of old fashion showmanship and bravado. But hiding under his thin skin is a coat of cobwebs and spiders that need to be shook free. That does happen eventually, but not for a very long time.
The narrative follows the standard coming of age tale rules. It's Almost Famous, except with an old guy and a college dropout instead of a famous rock star god and a high school journalist. Both parties learn a thing or two on their spiral. This gloom-and-doom pity party dips way down well before fame and fortune ever comes calling upon them. The film begins with an interesting opening credit sequence that plays like an SAT test. We soon learn that Gabel is a disgruntled law school dropout that is tired of trying to impress his dad. It's a timeless parable, really. One that we can all identify with. To a point. Not wanting to study or read anymore, he seeks outside employment. After a fateful late night meeting, he is soon ironing shirts and pressing numbers for the once famous mentalist Buck Howard. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, we learn that a mentalist is an exaggerated form of magician. It's maybe one rung up, and involves telekinesis. Mentalists and magicians both get very upset when you confuse the two of them.
Things mumble along at a languid pace for far too long. We watch as Gabel turns from unknowing assistant into loyal lapdog. Things pick up once Blunt arrives, acting as a romantic interest for Hanks. Their relationship is an easy one, even if she does feel slightly too mature for him. The life swimming through this movie is drab and painfully slow. Things only start to pick up in the last act, when Blunt's Valerie Brennan shows Howard an article in Entertainment Weekly they've all been hiding from him. It sets up the mentalist as a wacky fraud. These cruel printed words cause him to have a mild heart attack. He awakens in the hospital to discover life has been breathed back into his dead career. The media latch onto the idea that Buck collapsed not because of a heart murmur, but because of the strain on his brain from subduing 800 (probably less) people into a deep hypnotic sleep.
The very last third of the movie is actually kind of fun. Howard's occupational skills are suddenly relevant again. We see him appearing on numerous different talk shows, and things sail smoothly for a while. Then he loses his shit in Vegas, literally. It's a sad ending that sets up a near tearful departure for Hanks and Malkovich. The scenes between Hanks' and his Oscar winning dad are slightly awkward in that Tom doesn't really seem that interested in being there. It's a tad shameful, and doesn't do anything to help the film to its dawdling end. There are better ways to spend your time this weekend. The Great Buck Howard will only leave you feeling morose and tired.
The actors? Whoop-doo! The Great Buck Howard? Over all, I'd have to say, "Boo!" Just go watch some Amazing Kreskin videos on Youtube and call it good. Okay?
(All of B. Alan Orange's reviews are based on the Boo! or Whoop-doo! evaluation system.)
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