I can’t deny it: I’ve missed him.

I missed how Buddy Cianci was a splash of color in the black-and-white world of governing. I missed how he was there at every Little League opening day in every neighborhood. I knew there was the scent of corruption where he held sway. And I wondered if I were paying for some of that in my tax bills.

But it was hard not to like him. He almost never closed the door on me as a journalist, even during his final days. I’ve missed him.

I got to wondering how much I’ve forgotten, so this week, I went to see the movie.

It is an unusual thing to find in the multiplex. There, at Providence Place, alongside superstar names like Will Ferrell, Vincent A. Cianci, Jr. is starring in the documentary Buddy.

It’s a testament to filmmaker Cherry Arnold, who did quite a job capturing the man. But it’s also a testament to Buddy. I don’t think a documentary about Don Carcieri would have been scheduled to play at Providence Place, or Jack Reed. I say that giving them full credit for being politicians of honor.

And perhaps that is why Cianci is so compelling. He is a sinner saint, part rock star, part rogue. Or at least he was. You wonder, don’t you, how he will be when he returns this summer after five years in prison.

The movie begins deftly with quick cuts of Buddy … arriving. He was always good at arriving. Most politicians are careful, and therefore bland. But there’s a typical cut of Cianci thanking people for welcoming him so nicely, and for that, he will fix all their parking tickets. Even during his trial, he went to events.

The movie includes shots of the other Plunder Dome defendants dodging cameras, refusing comment. But Buddy never hid. Once, in the final days of the trial, I spotted him having breakfast in the Biltmore restaurant with his lawyer, Richard Egbert. I staked out the entrance, hoping to grab a quote when he swept out. Instead, he waved me over and I had coffee with them. I think even Egbert was taken aback.

I even miss how he was one of the last American political bosses. There are telling glimpses of how he did it, such as a moment you could almost miss in the film when a man comes up to Buddy at an event, and says the tree in front of his house needs work. Cianci sends over an aide, who writes down the information. And you know the next day, the tree would be taken care of, and that would win Cianci another devotee. Multiply that thousands of times and you begin to understand how he overcame so much. He was a public performer and a private fixer, and it’s what made him an American political classic.

People would joke about Cianci going to even the opening of … an envelope. That’s how he started, and you’d think he’d have slowed down over the years. He didn’t. As Brown professor Darrell West observed in the movie, Buddy really did go to eight or nine events each evening. As philanthropist Alan Shawn Feinstein added, Cianci’s mistress was Providence itself.

Maybe that too was why so many loved him. He gave everything to his city. Remember Wendy Materna, whom he dated for years? It comes out in the movie that he wanted to marry her, but she wanted more of him, and between the lines, you pick up that he wouldn’t give up his other paramour, his city. And then there is some footage of people approaching him at an event to ask how Wendy is doing, and he says, with a sad smile, “She’s getting married today.”

There are other poignant moments, like when a colleague sees him on the eve of his sentencing, sitting alone at night at the Custom House. It makes you realize that Buddy Cianci belonged to everyone, but also to no one. He himself says this is the price paid when you are so public a man. There is no time to make a private life.

The film covers all the lows that might have ruined a lesser politician. Remember the woman who long ago accused him of rape? Of course, there was the assault on the man he said had an affair with his estranged wife. That got him booted from office. Somehow, he overcame all of it.

But at last, his career ended in disaster. You wonder why he didn’t learn from the close calls. One answer given: There’s something about Cianci that makes him create problems for himself just when things are going well. Some say he was simply self-destructive.

Maybe. But watching the movie made me think it was something else. In high school, he seemed to feel most alive when in a wrestling match against a bigger opponent. Somehow, he always seemed to win those bouts. Maybe he thought he always would.

How will he be when he is released?

I got a glimpse two years ago when he made his last plea for sentence reduction, and appeared here in court on a video-conference screen. He wore heavy glasses, no toupee, and you might not have recognized him. He looked older. He was deferential, and his face a bit worn.

But there were flashes of humor. He still had a spark in his eye.

When he went away, people asked, would five years sap that unique Cianci life-force?

I can’t imagine.

mpatinkin@projo.com