THE STORY – A dramatic retelling of the post-Watergate television interviews between British talk-show host David Frost and former president Richard Nixon.
THE CAST – Frank Langella, Michael Sheen, Kevin Bacon, Rebecca Hall, Toby Jones, Matthew Macfadyen, Oliver Platt & Sam Rockwell
THE TEAM – Ron Howard (Director) & Peter Morgan (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 122 Minutes
From the moment Ron Howard’s “Frost/Nixon” begins, one can immediately trace the bleak ripple effects of history repeating itself. The film immerses us into a foreboding archive montage of Richard Nixon’s 1974 resignation from his U.S. presidency in the aftermath of the Watergate scandal. Audio recordings echo Nixon’s abuse of power, criminal wrongdoing, and targeted attacks on any members of the press who give him trouble. His upending of democracy would go on to be pardoned, leaving no opportunity for real accountability. The striking political parallels to modern America make the high-stakes drama of “Frost/Nixon” feel especially more omnipresent today. With exceptional performances and an insightfully sharp screenplay, Howard’s film embodies a reverberating fight for honesty and integrity.
The introductory archive footage provides succinct historical context and sets a precedent for the role that the “television close-up” plays in the narrative that follows. Based on Peter Morgan’s 2006 play of the same name, “Frost/Nixon” dramatizes the 1977 interviews between Nixon (Frank Langella) and British talk-show host David Frost (Michael Sheen), which centered on foreign and domestic policy, the Vietnam War, and the Watergate cover-up. Three months after being pardoned and declared medically unfit to stand the Watergate trial, Nixon begins his memoir-writing. All the while, he is searching for a controlled way back into the limelight. Swayed by literary agent Swifty Lazar (Toby Jones), who dangles the promise of several million dollars for a puff piece, Nixon agrees to Frost’s “lightweight” interview request. Nixon and his team, including chief of staff Jack Brennan (Kevin Bacon), expect an easy victory towards rehabilitation, gravely underestimating Nixon’s own “No holds barred” advice.
Frost appears to have no political convictions or voting history, but he understands television. Four hundred million people watched Nixon’s goodbye from the White House. The film conveys Frost’s real-time reaction as an impulsive moment, latching onto this level of viewership. As Frost watches from the set of his television program, “Frost Over Australia,” the camera cuts to a close-up of Nixon’s face on the monitor, as though communicating directly to Frost that the disgraced former president is concealing several truths. It’s a penny-drop moment when Frost recognizes the potential for a story. He confides in his producer, John Birt (Matthew Macfadyen), and sends out an interview request. While it is assumed that Frost doesn’t possess the qualities to be taken seriously, the film gives him a smartly crafted character arc built on the desire to achieve something bigger than himself.
Peter Morgan’s screenplay draws engaging parallels between Frost and Nixon, particularly in what both protagonists seem to hope to achieve through the interviews. As demonstrated in the hit show “The Crown” and in films such as Kevin Macdonald’s “The Last King of Scotland” and Stephen Frears’ “The Queen,” Morgan has a knack for historical drama. “Frost/Nixon” shows Morgan very much in his element as he tackles the complexities of public figures beyond one-note personas. The film is not so much an in-depth conversation about who these people are as an exploration of how their personal motivations shape power dynamics.
It helps that the narrative is based on Morgan’s work as a playwright, which gives the film an especially strong dialogue-driven rhythm. Certain moments carry a heightened theatrical quality, such as the drunken late-night phone call Nixon makes to Frost on the eve of their final interview. Langella brings an energy one might find in a stage performance (he won his third Tony Award for his portrayal of Nixon in Morgan’s play on Broadway). Nevertheless, that energy works absolute wonders here, crafting high-stakes tension. In the context of the phone call scene, it sparks in Frost an urgency to take the research process more seriously. There is an underlying thematic conversation between Nixon and Frost as two sides of the same coin, both wanting to be liked and seeking a spot on the winner’s podium. Only one can succeed, while the other will have “nothing and no one for company but the voices ringing in [their] head,” as a remarkable Langella delivers with spirited conviction. The dialogue registers brilliantly as a delicate dance and a nail-biting sports match.
Morgan’s adaptation of this material works hand in hand with the film’s direction, as Howard finds many vivid camera movements in the characters’ personal motivations and power dynamics. Howard highlights the liveliness of the dialogue, making it feel as though we’re watching a competition unfold between the underdog and its more experienced opponent. There is a whirlwind energy to how Frost is portrayed; he is constantly in motion and, at times, difficult to pin down. It’s a neat reflection of his headspace compared to his team’s more laser-focused research techniques. For Nixon’s portrayal, Howard observes false confidence from afar and a fragile persona up close. The film also makes sharp observations of Nixon’s relationship to television. The significance of a close-up and its capacity to create meaning come into play several times. Whether it’s through dual shots of characters appearing in a room and on a TV monitor simultaneously, or in facial reactions to certain lines of questioning, the film gets up close and personal to the impactful weight that words carry.
The central performances by Langella and Sheen maintain excellent narrative tension throughout. Neither is made to resemble their real-life roles through heavy prosthetics. The transformations are more rooted in the spirit of these figures and the emotionality behind their actions, which ultimately feels better suited to Howard and Morgan’s approach. Langella makes you feel the intentionality behind every calculated move, whether Nixon is throwing Frost a curveball right before the cameras roll, or giving lengthy answers to soak up airtime. It is all about dictating where the conversation will go and how an audience will perceive it. Langella balances this precision with an air of mystery about what the character chooses to conceal. He has a wonderful scene partner in Sheen, who excels at playing Frost’s superficially charming personality and underdog spirit. Sheen is most impressive at charting Frost’s character arc, from a showman who loses control of the story to a confrontational interviewer who gets a historic confession out of Nixon. Additionally, despite the minimal narrative impact of Frost’s girlfriend, Caroline Cushing (Rebecca Hall), Sheen and Hall share endearing chemistry.
Elaborating on the journalistic perspective, Sam Rockwell and Oliver Platt shine as researcher James Reston, Jr. and TV journalist Bob Zelnick, respectively. Together with John Birt (Macfadyen), they form the trio of research investigators responsible for keeping Frost factually prepared at every turn. Rockwell, in particular, stands out as the film’s moral compass, maintaining that the interviews must be an uncompromising expression of conviction, not an exoneration. Overall, the supporting characters offer meaningful insight into the central narrative. They also, however, unnecessarily appear as documentary-style talking heads discussing the interviews in retrospect. These segments feel distracting and superfluous, especially given the precise structure of the central story.
“Frost/Nixon” ultimately resonates through brilliant performances, as well as through an insightful director and writer pairing whose work demonstrates deep fascination with the subject matter. Given a piece of dialogue from Rockwell’s James Reston, Jr., on the significance of not letting Nixon off the hook in any way, there is some irony in how the film’s ending blurs culpability and lacks bite. Though it is also a conclusion that, at the very least, captures a sense of psychological defeat, as Nixon’s tyrannical power fades offscreen.
