The Last Movie I Saw

You often hear people complaining about musical performers whose last hit was twenty, thirty, forty or more years earlier, clutching to past glories as they try to ring a few more bucks out of yet another tour. The Rolling Stones are often mentioned in this context-- a band that had real relevance in the 1960s and '70's, but who, for many, now seem a mere parody of their earlier selves. My response to that charge is, who are we (or anyone besides the artists themselves) to say that they should not make a living at something they do well, and that other people want to pay to see? They are, after all, professional musicians, so why-- because of some arbitrary verdict that they are no longer "hip"-- should anyone mind if they continue to go about their business to the best of their ability? Sure, it's a little sad sometimes when a great band is reduced to a single original member (and often not a seemingly critical member) touring with a bunch of youngsters that had no connection to the group in its glory years. But that hardly means they are incapable of entertaining a crowd, even if said crowd doesn't match the dimensions of those drawn in the band's heyday.

The Great Buck Howard (written and directed by Sean McGinly) is not about an aging musician, but rather a past-his-prime (in terms of poularity at least) mentalist. The titular character, who appeared on the Tonight Show over sixty times with Carson, but never with Leno (a lingering sore point) carries on in half-filled small town auditoriums and competing for minimal press attention with the likes of Jerry Springer. His "entourage" consists of a young road manager who knows he can do better, but is charmed enough by the star's intermittent charisma to stick it out, at least for awhile (it helps when he meets Buck's reluctant but cute publicist). The cast of the film is excellent, led by John Malkovich as Buck and Colin Hanks (Tom's son) as his assistant. I also really liked Emily Blunt as the publicist, and although I'm sure I've heard/seen her name before, I can't remember in what-- I doubt I'll forget this role so quickly. Malkovich maintains his essential "Buckness" without letup, from the introduction of the character through the post-climactic comeback that ends the film, so much so that the familiarity of his mannerisms (for example, a handshake that looks to rattle the bones of its recipients) become the equivalent of listening to "Satisfaction" for the umpteenth time. It's a highly entertaining, even though ultimately inconsequential, film; in other words, a lot like it must be to go and see the Rolling Stones in concert these days.