Spotlight: Frost/Nixon

I know very little about Richard Nixon, and only slightly more about the Watergate scandal that incited one of the more tumultous periods in recent American history. What I do know about both subjects is an amalgam of anecdotes, hearsay, grade-school history lessons and a dash of Wiki-knowledge, a strange combination that leaves me less than prepared for, say, a discussion of the subject around the dinner table.

Frost/Nixon, Ron Howard’s account of the publicity standoff between a television talk show host and the recently resigned president, offers a similarly disjointed approach to the facts and fiction surrounding the improbable interview that unfolded in the spring of 1977. The film alternates between a faux-documentary style, in which the characters share their recollections of the event, and a glittery world of heightened emotions, where a character’s fuzzy sense of intellectual disorientation can manifest itself literally in soft focus on the screen. It is unclear whether Howard intends for his film to be a glorified slice of American lore or an honest history of four men who successfully extracted an admission of responsibility from one brilliant but reticent politician.

This opposition appears most clearly in the performances of Frank Langella and Michael Sheen who, in their respective turns as Nixon and television personality David Frost, bring contrasting degrees of theatrical brilliance and historical accuracy. Langella, whose utterly transcendent effort in the film’s final twenty minutes makes the complete limpness of the first hundred entirely worth bearing, invests his character with an intoxicating personal conviction and profound thoughtfulness that did not arise so readily from his real-life counterpart. In the actual interviews, Nixon spoke in a softer, more candid tone that lacks the resonating depth of Langella’s version. The actor, whom I had very regrettably failed to see onscreen until this movie, heightened every element of Nixon’s delivery, bringing a tremendous significance to every word and hinting at, for the sake of a supposedly uneducated audience, an intellect beyond the awareness of an angry public.

Unfortunately, Sheen has neither the luxury of a well-written part nor a similar interest from the director in embellishing the character’s persona. His role, despite his best efforts, seems to suffer from a perceived need to balance Langella’s heroic performance with historical integrity. Sheen, from his confident charm to the part in his hair, is every inch the David Frost that brought his far-fetched project to millions of viewers worldwide. He conveys the requisite determination in brining his idea to fruition, his famous womanizing, and (not surprisingly) succeeds in acting as the doormat for Nixon’s preaching in their first two interview sessions.

We learn very little about the man himself during the trials he experienced, as his glamorous lifestyle keeps him largely absent from the film in the days leading up to his bouts with Nixon. During these moments, the story turns to the busy preparations of the sadly underutilized Sam Rockwell and always funny Oliver Platt. While the beautiful and talented Rebecca Hall never has the opportunity to become anything beyond the girl on Frost’s arm, Kevin Bacon makes the most of a small opportunity as Nixon’s devoted chief of staff.

Thanks to Langella, the final act of Frost/Nixon humanizes the disgraced president, whose blunders overshadowed a sincere desire to make a positive mark during his term. In my book, any viewer who can stay awake until the final interview will be rewarded with what is surely one of the most stunning performances of this year. For those who would prefer to save themselves the time, you can get your little dose of history by catching the highlights on YouTube.