Buck and the Preacher (1972)

Buck and the Preacher is special because it takes the wide-open myth of the Western and lets Black pioneers finally ride at the center of it—without turning the movie into a lecture. Sidney Poitier directs with a sure sense of momentum and moral clarity, balancing dusty trail tension, sharp comic turns, and sudden bursts of danger so the journey feels alive rather than dutiful. The real spark is the chemistry between Poitier’s steady, capable Buck and Harry Belafonte’s wonderfully sly, high-energy Preacher, with Ruby Dee adding warmth and steel that keeps the story grounded. It’s a crowd-pleasing adventure with something on its mind, though if you want a purely traditional, white-hat Western, this one’s revisionist edge and social bite may be exactly what surprises you—or what you didn’t come for.

Buck and the Preacher is clearly aiming to reclaim the Western for Black pioneers, mixing frontier action with a buddy dynamic between Sidney Poitier’s steady wagon master and Harry Belafonte’s slippery preacher. The problem is it often falls back on a pretty conventional, episodic Western structure, so the big themes—racism, exploitation, survival—can feel simplified into familiar shootouts and set pieces rather than fully explored. Some character beats and broad comic touches now read dated, and the direction is competent more than electrifying, which can make the film feel less special than its premise deserves. Still, Poitier, Belafonte, and Ruby Dee bring enough charisma and purpose to keep it watchable if you want a historically significant, crowd-pleasing Western and can forgive the rough edges.