A novel and compelling treatment of the 37th president
The legendary filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock once remarked, “The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture.” Given this formula, it is hardly surprising that Richard Milhous Nixon, quite possibly the most despised and maligned political figure of the past half-century, would naturally lend his story to cinematic success. With his dark brow, menacing smile, and perpetual coating of perspiration, Nixon is as ominous and mysterious an antagonist as any Hollywood has produced. But in “Frost/Nixon,” Ron Howard’s slick adaptation of the Peter Morgan play, Tricky Dick undergoes a transformation, and what we are left with is Nixon as we have never seen him: lonely, vulnerable, and, strangest of all, likeable.
The Private Made Public
Peter Morgan, who adapted “Frost/Nixon” from his successful play, is no stranger to historical fiction. He has twice tackled modern British politics, first in The Deal and then in the acclaimed 2006 film The Queen. That same year, Morgan also co-wrote The Last King of Scotland, which brought Ugandan dictator Idi Amin to the big screen. The private lives of public figures, with all of their schemes, contradictions, and humor, are common features in his work, and Morgan has once again found a story that allows him to explore the intrigue of recent history.
“Frost/Nixon” begins with the ignominious resignation of Richard Nixon and his self-imposed exile at his San Clemente retreat. Across the globe, in Sydney, Australia, playboy British talk show host David Frost watches with much interest. After some wheeling-and-dealing, Frost arranges an exclusive series of interviews with the disgraced former president. For Nixon, the interviews present a chance to set the record straight and quite possibly achieve political rehabilitation. Frost, however, sees this not as an historical event but instead the opportunity for fame; the fact that Nixon’s farewell attracted four hundred million viewers is not lost on the savvy TV presenter. Over the course of the film, the interviews evolve into tense verbal sparring, with the two talented men squaring off as the cameras roll. Both come to realize that only one can emerge as victor, with the other relegated to the dustbin of history.
Ron Howard’s solid direction enhances the suspense and intrigue of Morgan’s script, with quick edits and frequent close-ups more suggestive of a boxing match than an interview. The film also wisely chooses to employ the two leads from the London and Broadway runs of the play, the very talented pair of Frank Langella and Michael Sheen. The enigmatic Langella, best known for his roles in Dave, Good Night and Good Luck, and Superman Returns, completely disappears into the Nixon persona. After hundreds of performances on stage, Langella is able to fully embody his character, and his hunched shoulders and sad eyes speak volumes about the former president’s turmoil. Sheen, who appeared in Morgan’s The Deal and The Queen as Tony Blair, exudes both a smarmy charm and intelligence that reflect Frost’s development from lothario to master inquisitor. Also of note is Frost/Nixon’s wonderful supporting cast of reliable character actors that includes Kevin Bacon, Oliver Platt, Sam Rockwell, and Toby Jones.
Unhappy Days
The undeniable star of the film, though, is Langella, and he and Morgan bring a depth and sympathy to Nixon rarely seen in most cinematic outings. This Nixon is not the unbalanced monster of Robert Altman’s Secret Honor or Oliver Stone’s Nixon. Instead, he is as human an incarnation as has been captured on film. He smiles and tells jokes. He wishes he had a cheeseburger. He takes visible pleasure in a good-looking woman and a pair of fancy Italian loafers. And most important of all, this Nixon is clearly afflicted by one of man’s most painful emotions: loneliness.
At the beginning of the film, the camera shows Nixon’s face as he flies away from the White House for the last time. Here, he is a man painfully bewildered by his own self-destruction. Although his Orange County home, named La Casa Pacifica, is as charming a place of exile as any (the film uses the actual location in a nice touch of authenticity), the beauty of the scenery only makes Nixon’s loneliness and regret more apparent.
In one of “Frost/Nixon” ’s best scenes, the two titular characters exchange farewells. Nixon, endearingly shy, explains just how fortunate Frost is to lead a life of charm, lightness, and enjoyment. Then, in a fascinating moment of self-reflection, Nixon reveals what truly may have been the cause of his downfall: that unlike Frost, he simply did not have the ability to be liked. Earlier in the movie, a character remarks that it is impossible to feel anything close to sympathy for Richard Nixon. But at that moment, as the sun sets behind the solitary president, alone in his thoughts and unable to return to the limelight, sympathy may be the stirring that the audience feels.
A Hollywood Star
For the past 35 years, film and television audiences alike have been treated to a dozen notable manifestations of the 37th president, ranging from the inspired to the strictly farcical. He has been the subject of both theatrical epics and buoyant parodies, not to mention a slew of miniseries and made-for-TV movies. While the quality of each production (and performance) varies, most portray Nixon in one of two ways. In dramas, he is an ogre, a player in an American tragedy of Shakespearean proportions who sows the seeds of his own downfall. In comedies, he is simply a buffoon. But “Frost/Nixon” wisely steers a course that avoids stereotype, instead presenting a Nixon as complex and human as any other character, and it is in this effective and provocative treatment that the film finds its true success.
Unfortunately, “Frost/Nixon” also suffers from the same problem as any other cinematic representation of Tricky Dick. The audience is ultimately left with a work of fiction, and Peter Morgan’s story, though very compelling and certainly an interesting character study, takes many liberties with the factual record. This includes both an alteration of the chronology surrounding the events for the sake of pacing and dramatic effect, and the creation of some scenes (most notably a revealing midnight phone call made by an inebriated Nixon) that add to Morgan’s imagining of the characters. We may never know for sure whether Richard Nixon actually felt regret, or if he ever arrived at the conclusion that a man like he, so sadly lacking in charm and lightness, should never have gotten involved in politics. “Frost/Nixon” remains a piece of escapist fare, less truth than entertainment, aimed at moving an audience, not educating it. But then again, isn’t that what movies are for?