A whisperer who is becoming the talk of Tinseltown

First things first. Does he really whisper to horses, as the titles of the novel by Nicholas Evans and the subsequent film by Robert Redford suggest?

"That's a metaphor," he laughs from 4000-plus miles away. The term was born from the way Brannaman, using techniques learned from Tom Dorrance and Ray Hunt, will train a horse using the gentlest of voices and the lightest of touches, as opposed to old-fashioned methods of restraint - and worse. "It's almost as if a person was whispering in the horse's ear to get them to do what they want them to do," he says.

Others say horse whisperer; he calls himself a plain old horseman. "I'm sort of known for not being very commercial. I've never worried about packaging and fancy logos and slogans and all of that. I've just quietly done my thing all these years. Frankly that's why a lot of people go to my clinics because I haven't turned it into this giant commercial enterprise where I'm selling all kinds of products and trying to hook people in. I'm just there to try to help them with their horses."

As Cindy Meehl's film shows, and as every dog owner knows as well, problems tend to arise with the humans rather than the animals. "Often," says Brannaman, "instead of helping people with horse problems, I'm helping horses with people problems."

For Brannaman, horses were his salvation, a way for him to recover from a childhood in which he was beaten by his father. Taken in by a foster family and fed love and security, the young Buck began to thrive. The damaged child grew into a gifted horse trainer who wanted to use his skills to help others. Eventually he put his story and ideas into a book, The Faraway Horses.

"That really chronicles my entire life up to this point," he says of The Faraway Horses. He wanted the book to be encouraging to people who were living through a hard time, to let them know that it is not preordained that your life is always going to be terrible just because it starts badly.

"I had long since healed up from the things that happened to me earlier in my life. To me it was about being able to say something in a way that was constructive and encouraging to someone else."

Though there are other horse whisperers around, it was Brannaman who worked with Robert Redford, and doubled for him, in the 1998 Hollywood movie. Redford is interviewed in Meehl's film, explaining how certain scenes wouldn't have been possible without Brannaman.

In that easy-osey way of his, Brannaman praised the Oscar-winner's way with horses, telling him: "There is some potential here Bob, if this movie thing doesn't work out for you."

He recalls his time on set fondly. "We got to be good friends. He's a really good guy, and I was pleased to find that out. You know sometimes you meet a celebrity and are somewhat disappointed? Once you get to know them you're like, aw gee you are not like anything like I thought. It was just the opposite with Bob Redford. He's a real gentleman and a genuinely good person."

He had been approached by several documentary makers over the years, but it was Meehl who got the okay. A fashion designer by trade, she attended his clinics, became fascinated by the methods, and, like Brannaman with his book, wanted to pass on the message. So the fashion designer turned into a filmmaker.

Brannaman was straight with her from the beginning, saying that his focus was going to be on the horses and owners, so she would have to work round him.

"I told her I wasn't going to stage anything or set anything up or do anything over, that she had to figure out how to be in the right place at the right time. That wasn't so hard for her because she had already been to the clinics and understood how things worked, but she had to be real good at anticipating things and having a camera in the right place." She was with him for two and a half years in total, ending up with 300 hours of footage to edit into an 88-minute film.

The film has been an award-winning hit in the US. As a result, Brannaman is recognised a lot more now. Is he ready for that?

"It's kind of crazy. The travelling I've done the last few days, every airport I go in somebody recognises me and comes up and wants to say hello, shake my hand or get a picture. I'm totally cool with that.

"I've been doing what I do for 30 years and the film has brought some recognition, I suppose, for all those years of loneliness going down the road by myself."

There will be no diva-like behaviour from him if someone asks for a picture. "You need to be kind to people because for some folks it might take all the courage they have to come up and say hello."

Now 50, this decades-married dad to three daughters will continue with his clinics. He's even thinking of venturing further afield. "I'm going to try to get to Ireland to do a clinic so eventually I may get to Scotland too."

One of his daughters, Reata, is featured in the film, helping with the clinics. Just turned 18, she is about to graduate from high school and wants to study business.

"It's kinda sad to see her move away but at the same rate it's pretty cool to see her go to college and start her life too.

"I know she'll always ride and have a passion for this and whether she'll exactly follow in my footsteps... I don't much care about that. I do know this about raising girls – that if you get your girls raised and they leave home feeling pretty good about themselves and they have some confidence then everything is going to work out fine for them anyway."

She enjoyed the documentary experience, as did Brannaman. "It's all been good," he says of his experience in film. "The first involvement with the movie business was with Redford and gee, if that was how you made your living, it doesn't get much better than that." He pauses and laughs. "I probably ought to quit while I'm ahead."

But before he does, he's in talks about a screenplay based on The Faraway Horses. The days of riding on steel horses are not over yet.

Buck is out on DVD and download from May 7.