It's 'Frost' vs. 'Nixon' in a Dramatic Battle of Wills

by Brett Parker

Frost/Nixon is a David vs. Goliath story masquerading as political drama. In telling the behind-the-scenes story of the 1977 TV interview in which David Frost got President Richard Nixon to admit his guilt for the Watergate Scandal, director Ron Howard has found in this material the most unlikely of underdog stories. I never thought I’d see a true story of television journalism and political intrigue structured like Rocky, but that suggests the disarming color and energy of this seemingly straight-forward material.

The film opens with the breaking of the Watergate Scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon (Frank Langella) from the presidency. It’s extremely obvious to the American people that Nixon played a significant role in Watergate, yet he has slipped away without any confessions, apologies, or even charges. In Australia, the low-rate British talk show host David Frost (Michael Sheen) takes notice of the monumental ratings Nixon’s resignation generated in American television. This sparks an idea: perhaps Frost can stage an exclusive interview with Nixon himself in an attempt to make a big name for himself in America. Frost’s people thinks he’s nuts: Frost is a trash-TV king known for interviews with the Bee Gees and covering magician stunts, how could someone like him possibly interview a political giant such as Nixon? Nixon’s aides think the same thing, although the disgraced president takes considerable notice of the hefty sum Frost is willing to pay for an interview. Nixon begins to think that an interview with a soft push-over like Frost would make him look more sympathetic than conducting one with a challenging heavyweight such as Mike Wallace.

Nixon stages a meeting with Frost and is immediately fascinated, even envious, of Frost’s swinging-hipster charisma. He agrees to go on TV with him. As Frost struggles to raise funds and collaborate with major networks for the interview, he hires two investigative researchers, Jack (Sam Rockwell) and Bob (Oliver Platt), to help shape the project. Jack is a college professor disgusted with Nixon’s treacheries and lies and he begins to convince Frost that he should use his air time to pull a Watergate confession straight out of the man himself. Jack thinks the segment should be “the trial he never got.” It would certainly make for fascinating television. But as the interviews are conducted, Nixon turns out to be an evasive and misdirecting subject who feels intellectually superior to Frost. Can this fluffy talk show host penetrate the iron wall “Tricky Dick” has built around himself?

At one point in the film, Nixon’s right-hand man (Kevin Bacon) refers to the interviews as a boxing match. It truly is the best analogy, for Howard appears to structure these scenes with the same formalities and suspense as an actual heavyweight bout. Two opponents meet in a closed arena (the living room of Nixon’s friend) and try to wear each other down with carefully-constructed strategies. Periodical “breaks” occur in which both opponents consult with their team of “trainers” and are given pointers on how to go after their opponent with more force. Through Frost, we can sense the unproven underdog trying with everything he’s got to wear down the stronger and smarter champion. This device doesn’t feel like a coincidence, considering that Howard also directed Cinderella Man, a film that knew a lot about how boxing matches play out.

Never before has a movie interview generated such tension and suspense. It’s surprising how intriguing these scenes are. I was reminded of the final act of A Few Good Men, which also showed an inexperienced professional trying carefully to pull answers from an intimidating subject. It’s easy to see how this material could’ve been just another stale and cold snapshot of political muckraking, yet Howard transcends that in a way that actually makes us care about the characters at hand and feel the drama beneath the words. He doesn’t really get the best handle on the film’s first act, however, never really fleshing out the character’s personalities and quirks the way we want him to. Plus, I was annoyed at how the film intercuts between candid interviews with the characters, yet another borrow from the Reds playbook. These interviews highlight points to the audience we’re strongly capable of figuring out on our own. It’s when the film arrives at the interview scenes where Howard gets a firm handle on things, employing shaky cam techniques to capture the behind-the-scenes feel the material demands. This is another fine example of Howard’s knack for exploring cracks in American institutions and ideals.

Frank Langella has been the big awards draw for the film, and he truly embodies the mannerisms and presence we expect from Nixon himself. We’re not only impressed with the physical details, but we’re fascinated with the imploding anguish and haunting sadness Langella paints in subtle strokes. Nixon is seen as a man who always felt unappreciated, like an outsider looking in. Langella makes us feel every inch of Nixon’s personal pain and is sensational in doing so. While Langella has been reaping all the accolades, I think equal recognition should be given to Michael Sheen, who is equally compelling and skilled in his portrayal of Frost. He sees Frost as a man who not only wears his hipness and charm on his sleeve, but is also masking a crushing vulnerability. His best scenes are when he sports a plastic smile that we can sense is masking intense fears and insecurities.

The most interesting thing the screenplay does, intelligently adapted by Peter Morgan from his own play, is to highlight how even though Frost and Nixon appear to be polar opposites, they just might have everything in common. Throughout the film, they glance at each other curiously, as if harboring a deep knowing about each other. It all comes to a head in the film’s best scene, in which a drunken Nixon places a late night phone call to Frost before the final interview session. Nixon highlights how both him and Frost came from the bottom and have to constantly fight for respect in everything they do. He claims they’re both resentful of people who’ve had it easier and they possess an outsider’s passion to fight their way to the top. Frost is startled by this identification. Frost may seem like the underdog in the interviews, but Nixon may have been an underdog his whole life. They are two similar forces fighting for the same respect and, in the TV arena, only one can truly win. I admire Morgan for expressing the human drama between these two characters. I can imagine a screenwriter getting too caught up in the political significance and behind-the-scenes intrigue to spare focus on these two personalities.

Frost/Nixon, however, is still a film that captures the weight of all its subject matter. It’s a thoughtful meditation on the relationship between politicians and media as well as a penetrating look at the struggles of television journalism. While we expected these points in the film to be expertly handled, we didn’t expect personal drama of the highest caliber. The film’s final shot is of Nixon staring out across an ocean, yearning for an acceptance and comfort that will never come. That we are able to sympathize so strongly with this misunderstood president may just be the film’s strongest achievement.