Sidney Poitier was a revolutionary by every definition of the word – as an actor he broke boundaries, and as a social activist he spent decades fighting for marginalized communities, using his status as one of the most prominent artists of the past century to influence and challenge oppressive structures, which often included taking on work that was representative of a much wider community. Regardless of the specific work he was doing, everything Poitier did resounded with the tenacity and compassion that was so definitive of his entire career, being the consummate professional who was also aware of his status as one of the most important black figures in the entertainment industry for most of his career, a groundbreaking icon who made sure to be a strong representative for his community. This can be seen embedded in the fabric of Buck and the Preacher, which was the first time he directed a film, taking on the role after choosing to let the original director go after he felt that the initial plans weren’t aligning with his vision, which was that of a western told from a black perspective, which had not been done prior to this, at least not on as wide a scope as here. Delicately detailed and radical in both form and content, the story of a violent but principled young maverick and the maniacal but shrewd preacher with whom he partners is truly extraordinary, a complex and spirited genre film that sees Poitier making the first of several endeavours as a director, purely because he saw a story worth telling, and would take a few risks should it mean realizing a vision that was far more than just a vanity project, turning Buck and the Preacher into one of the most original and inventive character studies of its era, and a truly worthy addition to a strong canon of alternative westerns.

The concept of the revisionist western was at its apex in the 1970s. Filmmakers like Sam Peckinpah and Robert Altman were going in search of something much deeper, a quality that was not present in the more conservative films made by John Ford and Howard Hawks (which are still deservedly iconic, but not too ambitious in terms of subject matter), nor anywhere to be found in the wildly entertaining but deeply formulaic spaghetti westerns that were produced en masse, starting in the previous decade. Rather, the focus was on pushing boundaries by either telling stories that were not often at the heart of traditional westerns, or formally more experimental, whether in style or tone. By virtue of the subject matter on its own, Buck and the Preacher occupies a very interesting place in the canon of revisionist westerns – it focuses entirely on black characters, a group that was most certainly present during the period in which these films are set, but rarely the focal point of any of these stories, essentially being supplementary to the journeys of traditionally white characters. In this film, we have the focus drawn to not only a more diverse range of characters, but also stories steeped heavily in history – the opening titles mention the challenges that befell many people in the direct aftermath of the Civil War, where the Emancipation Proclamation may have made them legally free, but liberation was still an endless road filled with torment and terror – and Poitier making the decision to dedicate this film to “those men, women and children who lie in graves as unmarked as their place in history” lends the film a deep sense of gravity, and he certainly lives up to the promise by telling a story that may be conjecture, but contributes in a small but significant way to a broader narrative.

In this regard, we can look at Buck and the Preacher as a remarkable piece of genre filmmaking, as well as a vitally important social commentary, one that makes bold but sophisticated allusions to later issues, which Poitier seamlessly weaves into the narrative, in an effort to avoid any sense of anachronism (as a film like this was already going to have a considerable uphill climb to being as acclaimed as other revisionist westerns at the time). Poitier’s ability to temper tone and register is severely underrated – his acting style indicated a performer who was often stoic and quite serious (but not to the point of being dour – he was capable of immense joviality when the role required it), so it is surprising that he chose to make his directorial debut with a film that was embedded in a genre often designed to be purely entertaining – and it’s even more surprising that he finds the space to actually develop the film into a work that is fueled by historical significance as much as it is a precise and meaningful sense of humour. It is ultimately a buddy comedy that carries a lot of weight with it – eccentric characters, unexpected situations and an endless parade of carefully curated adventure makes Buck and the Preacher an extraordinarily fun film, albeit one that is aware of its primary intentions and adheres to the serious side of the subject matter enough to make it meaningful, but not at the expense of the elements that would keep audiences engaged. Poitier worked in the industry for long enough to realize what works, and he effortlessly implements these concepts into the film, which is a thrilling and deeply meaningful voyage through a period so frequently captured in cinema, but rarely from this perspective.

There is only one noticeable flaw when it comes to the films that Poitier directed, and it is that when he was working on the other side of the camera, his performances tend to be slightly less intense, almost as if he is focusing more on the construction of the film, rather than giving everything he has to the performance itself. This is by no means a criticism of his acting style, nor is it a way of saying he was incapable of multitasking, but in nearly every one of his directorial endeavours in which he also starred, the focus was more on his co-workers, with Poitier taking a slightly more subdued role. Whether it was handing the reins over to Bill Cosby in their trio of exceptionally funny comedies, or giving his longtime friend Harry Belafonte the spotlight here, Poitier was a remarkably generous actor, taking roles that are slightly less audacious, but still incredibly interesting.  Buck and the Preacher once again sees Poitier playing a valiant, heroic individual who embodies the American spirit, doing what may not always be easy, but which is at least morally correct – and he challenges himself to depend less on his booming eloquence, and more on the physicality of the performance, with Buck being a very internal character that forces Poitier to do more nuanced work in terms of the physical aspect. Belafonte is playing against type here, taking on the role of a more morally ambigious scoundrel whose devilish plans actually conceal a valiant spirit, which makes the duality of the two main characters so effective. Supporting roles by Ruby Dee and Cameron Mitchell are excellent, and aid in creating a film that feels genuinely complex in terms of characters, which is one of the many ways Buck and the Preacher is a radical departure from other westerns, in which such distinct individuality was far more rare than we’d initially believe.

Buck and the Preacher is an iconic film in its own way, but it still remains relatively underseen. It has not been given the distribution it warrants until recently, and has always stood as something of a footnote in Poitier’s legendary career, despite being a film that is very much indicative of his broad spectrum of talents. However, there isn’t anything stopping it from receiving the appreciation it deserves, and whether we look at it as a straightforward western or as something much deeper, there is an abundance of discussion that can be evoked by this film. At its heart, Buck and the Preacher is a film about fighting oppressive systems and is thus very much aligned with what the director’s entire career was about, which makes this a perfect example of how he uses a slightly more elevated position (one in which he is on both sides of the camera) to creatively and discursively explore a range of ideas. They manifest in this thrilling, entertaining genre film that is equal parts social critique and historical adventure, with the action-packed filmmaking being supported by a deeply moving story of fighting the powers that seek to oppress and discriminate. It’s sometimes rough around the edges, and some of its narrative details may be slightly too convenient, but a film like this was never feasibly going to achieve any degree of realism outside of some historical context, so it certainly is not a flaw in any way. Buck and the Preacher is a fascinating and endearing film with many stunning ideas and a dedication to telling a story that is not only compelling for how it weaves through the past, but also undeniably moving in the techniques with which it finds nuance in a genre normally governed by conventions.