In the sprawl and sweep of American history, Richard Nixon endures as a towering and tragic figure. He had all the makings of a great leader, housed within the shell of a terrible one. Nixon was brilliant, charismatic, histrionic, and profoundly insecure. He bruised the presidency and scarred the public trust in ways that still haven’t fully healed. So outraged were the American people that they demanded an immediate prosecution. When Gerald Ford denied them that by granting Nixon an unconditional pardon, the voters sent Ford packing as well.
That smoldering anger radiates throughout Frost/Nixon. The public need for closure was strong enough that British presenter David Frost (Michael Sheen) was able to book Nixon (Frank Langella) for an epic interview series. Each segment would dissect a different portion of the former president’s life, with the final round reserved for Watergate. For each man, a victory offers a different version of the same reward: The chance to prove he is more than his reputation. Frost can establish himself as a heavyweight journalist, while Nixon can mollify the nation’s sense of betrayal and repair his battered legacy.
If this truly plays like a boxing match (director Ron Howard really leans into that metaphor), then the carousing, boozy Frost seems to be punching out of his weight class. He has a quick smile and amiable demeanor, both of which bely the deadly confrontation needed for this assignment. Meanwhile, Nixon is a force of personality, a ferocious individual who tangled with Mao and Brezhnev. At a glance, he should be able to steamroll Frost, control the tone of the interviews, and come out looking more dignified and presidential.
From the opening bell, that’s exactly how it plays out. Nixon bullies Frost and offers rosy reassessments of his most controversial decisions. (On his vicious bombing of Cambodia: “I only wish I’d gone in sooner!”) As Frost bungles, his production team fidgets in the control room. Research advisor David Reston (Sam Rockwell) desperately wants to deliver a Nixon apology to the American people. Editor Bob Selznick (Oliver Platt) begins to suspect that Frost simply doesn’t have the gravitas to wrangle with Nixon. Finally, producer John Birt (Matthew Mcfayden) just tries to keep this expensive endeavor on the rails.
Meanwhile, Nixon’s team is jubilant. This stern-looking platoon is led by Jack Brennan (Kevin Bacon), the former president’s chief of staff. Diane Sawyer (Kate Jennings Grant), the future news anchor, is a young research assistant. They become convinced that a positive interview will help Nixon rejoin Washington society and reemerge as a key player in GOP politics. As the interviews steam toward their inevitable showdown, it becomes clear that only one man can win.
Frost/Nixon is a gripping experience, even for those familiar with the real events. Peter Morgan adapts his West End play for the screen, bringing original stars Langella and Sheen along for the ride. Both actors are absolutely phenomenal, and their interplay gives the film most of its dramatic heft. Langella’s Nixon is a potent enigma, doggedly determined to rationalize his wrongs. As he putters around his seaside villa, the former president seems proud, pitiful, and lonely. (If heavy be the head that wears the crown, I can’t imagine the moral and spiritual weight for the man who squanders it.) On the flip side, Sheen gives Frost a freewheeling likability that allows us to emotionally invest in the underdog. When he finally commits to pummeling Nixon, the film takes on the kinetic energy of a Rocky training montage.
With all that said, Frost/Nixon does get dinged a little for playing loose with history. The film invents scenes that never happened, such as Nixon drunk-dialing a flummoxed Frost. At other points, Morgan’s script gets sketchy with the timeline. (Frost met his partner, Caroline Cushing (Rebecca Hall), long before the events of this film.) Also, the final showdown between Frost and Nixon gets carefully edited to heighten its impact. For a production so vocally righteous about seeking the truth, its casual approach to honesty offers too much irony to be ignored.
Still, don’t let that steer you away from Frost/Nixon. In its way, the Watergate scandal was a national catastrophe that stripped away more of our collective innocence. As with any other loss, Americans needed a way to make sense of it all. Surprisingly, that relief would be delivered from the unlikeliest of sources. This is a really good film, and it almost reaches greatness.
122 min. R. On demand.
