Introduction
During most of
the 20th century almost every major artistic medium whether it was
Broadway, film or television went out of its way to either never deal with the
Presidency or when it did to frame in the so called ‘great man’ theory. None of
the leaders of our nation whether they were FDR, Wilson or Lincoln were shown
as anything but saints incarnate with no hints of the kind of flawed
individuals they were.
This remained a
sad truth almost to the end of the 20th century. Even when it came
to such monsters as Richard Nixon, there were a few who tried to show them as
human being if not saints. This was sadly the judgment of almost every
historical drama that America or Europe would produce: there was almost no nuance
and the leaders of the country were always the good guy with no nuance. However
when cable channels like HBO and Showtime began to enter the TV movie industry
they slowly but surely began to paint more complete pictures of the occupants
of the White House. This almost always led to immense pushback from historians
and those who were survivors of that period and it has led to controversy on
many of those projects but I believe it was the best thing.
During the 21st
century with the rise of Peak TV and the work of a few brave filmmakers and
playwrights we began to get more rounded pictures of many of the Presidents
that we had long considered either great or even just mediocre. Movies have
improved a bit in the last two decades and some filmmakers will attempt the
rounded package. Mostly, however, that burden has fallen to cable and streaming
to tell the kind of layered complex stories about our chief executives.
Now as anyone
who has read my column for the last few years you know all of these three of
these things – film, American history and criticism – are all my sweet spots.
And for a while I’ve wanted to do a long-term project looking at how film and
television have been portrayal the men who have occupied the White House, both
on an artistic level and for historical accuracy. The former has always been
easy to judge for me; the latter more difficult. But I now feel more than
qualified to do both.
This series
will deal with the films and limited series that had covered our Presidents.
Because many filmmakers cover the same ground I expect multiple entries on the
same Presidents. I’m also relatively certain that there will only be a certain
number of Presidents who get covered in these columns: it’s not like anyone’s
ever done a biopic on Millard Filmore and I suspect no one will do a limited
series on the Harrison dynasty any time soon. And because this is going to be a
historical series I’m going to follow the same guideline I did when it came to
ranking the Presidents last year: I’m stopping at the end of the 20th
century. There is quite a bit of material on W, Obama, Trump and even some on
Biden in the cinematic and TV archives but for reasons that should be obvious
I’m not going to look at them in this series. (Maybe in ten years, but not
now.)
What I hope to
illustrate is how these storytellers have used our past to illustrate our
present. In the majority of these cases they are objective – more so than I
could be, I should mention. In all of them they use some exceptional actors and
writing to illuminate historical figures in scenarios we are very familiar with
and some we know too little about. Almost none try to use the ‘great man
theory’ of politics – though in some cases, I need to be clear they do let the
bias show. I hope that readers all along the ideological spectrum will find
these films and TV shows and look for them with an unbiased eye. Now more than
ever we need to learn from history in
order to make sure we don’t make the same mistakes.
Frost/Nixon
(2008)
Written
by Peter Morgan
Directed
by Ron Howard
“It
is not enough for me to win. My opponent must also lose.”
This piece
deserves a bit more of an introduction then some of the others will get. And
like all the pieces in this series I won’t hide my personal opinions on the
figures involved.
As my readers
might be aware I live in New York, which means that every so often I see a play
on Broadway. Sometime in 2007, not long before its limited run was about to
end, my family and I went to see Frost/Nixon. At this point I had barely
embarked on my writing career and was nowhere near as knowledgeable about
Hollywood as I would be when I started writing for medium in 2016. I only knew
who Peter Morgan was for his screenplay The Queen, which I had seen and
loved the previous year. That was also the first time I had any experience with
Michael Sheen who even at that juncture was one of Morgan’s favorite actors and
had played Tony Blair for him on HBO quite a few times. I knew who Frank
Langella was, mainly from a few movies but not the kind of actor he could be.
And I knew nothing about the David Frost
interviews of Nixon or why anyone would consider them worth writing a play
about.
The play ran
with no intermission and it was absolutely riveting from beginning to end. Langella,
who would win the Tony for his work, was extraordinary as Nixon and Sheen, who
had played Blair with tact and subtlety, showed a certain edge of the
smarminess that I associated with David Frost from what little I knew about
him. (Much of that, I should point out, was through that many of the members of
Monty Python had worked for him at one point and based on Eric Idle’s
portrayals of him, they seemed to hold him in contempt.) It was an
extraordinary experience.
Later that year
Ron Howard bought the film rights and while several big name actors wanted to
play the title roles (I heard that Jack Nicholson and DeNiro had wanted to play
Nixon) Howard insisted on having Langella and Sheen recreate their work on the
silver screen. Howard cast many great character actors in several key roles.
Sam Rockwell took on the role of James Reston, Kevin Bacon played Jack Brennan,
Oliver Platt played Bob Zelnick. Most of the rest of the cast was unknown to me
in 2008. I had no idea who Matthew MacFayden (John Birt) or Toby Jones (he did
a brief role as Swifty Lazar) were and the only reason I’d heard of Rebecca
Hall was that she also appeared in Woody Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona that
same year. There was Oscar talk almost from the moment the film was announced.
However when it
debuted in theaters that November I was reluctant to see it in the theater
because I’d seen it on Broadway. I was already fond of filmed versions of plays
to be sure but that didn’t include wanting to see one of a play I’d just seen
live. I was going to see it but when it ended up on video or cable. I had to be
talked into seeing by two friends. And within twenty minutes I was as riveted
as I had been watching the same story on stage.
Now I need to
make my historical opinion known. In his four star rave for the film Ebert
admitted how horrible Nixon was but asked “I would infinitely prefer him in the
White House now than its current occupant.” Now I’ll grant you how utterly
dreadful W had been during his term (and we had yet to feel the full effects of
the financial crisis that happened on his watch) but I never agreed with Ebert
on that and I can only justify the usually saintly and foresighted critic of
having to deal with Bush fatigue.
Nixon has
always struck me as the most dangerous man to ever occupy the Presidency. I
don’t deny all of his aspirants to that title ever since for their levels of monstrosity,
especially the current occupant of the White House, but in addition to all of
his other bad qualities Nixon was cunning in a way that I really don’t think
Reagan, Bush 43 and probably not even Trump really were. Nixon wasn’t just evil;
he understood the corridors of power because he had already spent the better
part of 20 years working them well before he won the White House in 1968. All
his successors were underestimated by the media because they were judged as incompetent
and intellectually lightweight – “what kind of moron would vote for W?” is the
attitude I remember. No one thought Nixon was dumb. The reason they thought no
one would ever elect him President was because America had countless
opportunities to see how monstrous he was and they believed America would
follow the better angels of its nature. Nixon understood better than any
politician to that point how to manipulate the worst parts of the body politic
and turn into the will of the people.
I also think
(and may make it clear in a separate article) that America was extremely lucky that
the true nature of Nixon’s evil were laid out in such a way that even his
greatest defenders couldn’t refute and that it was clear before every branch of
our system that he had no choice but to be forced out. Nixon only became
President because so many things happened in the 1960s; he only lost the
Presidency because of a similar chain of events. The former he was able to
manipulate enough to win the White House in 1968; the latter he could not.
What the
opening moments of Frost/Nixon make very clear is that a similar divide
is being formed even as Nixon resigns on August 8th 1974. In it
James Reston says that watching Nixon resign rather than feel joy he felt
incomplete. “There was no admission of guilt. No apology.” Morgan will show the
way the liberal establishment felt about Nixon his entire career but it also
illustrates the kind of polarizing opinions that Nixon always inspired – and in
a sense has come to illustrate so much of the media ever since when it comes to
who they love and who they hate. In that sense, the quote that started this
review (attributed to as many sources to Kissinger or Vince Lombardi) could
apply to the researchers attitude when it comes to the interviews.
Nixon’s
political life is over but for Reston and Zelnick, even more than Frost, is a
desire for blood. Reston and Zelnick want America to see the Richard Nixon they
have hated all these years. They want to hold him accountable in the eyes of
the public for the monster that he was in the White House. At one point Reston
says: “I want to give Richard Nixon the trial he never had.” It’s a noble
statement but in 1977 America, except for his most die-hard defenders (such as
Brennan) already are convinced as to Nixon’s guilt. Howard emphasizes this by
having footage shown of America’s hostile reaction to Ford’s pardon of Nixon
and the angry letters received by the White House. (“FDR had his New Deal.
Truman had his Fair Deal. Ford had his Crooked Deal.”)
It’s worth
remembering Ford’s actions were done in order for the country to move past
everything Nixon had done and he suffered the political consequences, very
likely losing election to the White House in his own right as a result. The
reaction of the masses to it was judged hostilely at the time, bravely decades
later and in recent years as a historical blunder given our current political
situation. The latter opinion, I should add, is held by the same kind of
liberal media that always judged Nixon so harshly when he was in office and
which men like Reston and Zelnick would be a part of today. I’ve argued in a
different article that I don’t believe a fair trial of Nixon would have been
possible in 1974 or even years later and that even if it had ended in a guilty
verdict (which again, I’m not convinced could have happened) how would our
country handle the logistics of putting a former President in prison? Upon
discussing this with a historian of the era (who still can’t decide if Nixon
should have been tried) he admits even if the verdict was guilty Nixon would
almost certainly still have to be pardoned, in which case what would the point
of a trial be?
These questions
likely never occurred to Morgan (and may not have even been considered at the
time) The play is after all about David Frost as much as it is Nixon. To his
immense credit Morgan makes it clear that the interviews mean something far
different to him than what his researchers and likely the people he represents
want. Of course Frost is British and has the benefit of detachment from the
situation that America does. He sees the millions of people watching the Senate
Subcommittee Hearings and all the people who watched Nixon resign and sees the
possibility for a media event.
For him there’s
a different context: Frost had an American late night show in the 1970s that
like so many during the era couldn’t survive the juggernaut that was Johnny
Carson. He’s a success in Britain and has shows in other parts of the world but
having had a taste of success in New York, he is hungering for it again. Unlike
his researchers - but critically, like
Richard Nixon – he understands the power of the medium and what it represents
to America. Like the song says, if he can make it here, he can make it anywhere
and he wants to get back.
Frost is in
Australia when Nixon resigns and comes to John Birt initially with the idea of
the project. Birt is incredulous: “Last night you interviewed the Bee Gees!” “Weren’t they great?” Frost responds. Initially
he fails at his attempt to get Nixon who suffers an attack of phlebitis. Not long
afterwards he’s writing his memoirs and has hired Lazar – arguably the most famous agent in the 20th
century – to try and sell it. He pitches Frost and it’s clear that Lazar may
have the best handle on how to manipulate men like him. He calls him in the
middle of the night and Frost makes an offer half a million. “Do you think you could
get $550,000? Nixon asks. “I got six.” Lazar brags.
While flying to
LA Frost meets and picks up Caroline Cushing (Hall) who comes with him to San
Clemente for the two’s first meeting. Frost gives him a check for $200,000
which Nixon knows it not only likely out of his own pocket but possibly the
only money he’ll get. We see Frost fighting with the networks for airtime and after
they all turn him down, he decides to syndicate it himself. He ends up hiring
Zelnick (Platt) who is the ABC correspondent for DC and Reston who at this
point has already written four books about him. Reston is combative from the
start, particularly considering Zelnick went to bat for him, making it clear
that he already thinks this project is beneath him. When Frost learns that Mike
Wallace has already run a story about the project diminishing him in
particular, it clearly stings but he allows Reston to stay.
Morgan goes out
of his way to show that in the years leading up to the interview both men are
doing things that are far beneath their dignity: we see Frost giving an
interview for an escape artist in Australia and Nixon giving a talk to the
Houston Society of Orthodontists. Frost has to essentially raise all the money
from his friends and we see him battling for sponsorship even up to the initial
taping.
What’s striking
watching the days leading up to the taping is how little regard even in
rehearsal Zelnick and Reston show not only the subject but in a way the man who’s
working on the project. Zelnick plays Nixon in the interview segments and it’s
very clear in the way he responds to questions that he has no respect for the
man. Tellingly both he and Reston mention that Kennedy and LBJ started the
Vietnam War and immediately brush past it; we see very clear that they are
examples of the liberal media who Brennan talks about on the day of Nixon’s
resignation. This is a more than valid historical point, one that generations
have basically chosen to ignore in their vilification of ‘their boogeyman’. And
they show contempt for Frost right up not only before the taping but as it goes
on. It’s clear they do think of him as a talk show host and a performer –
someone who is beneath their dignity.
Even more
interesting is Reston’s reaction when the interviews begin. He says that this
is the first time he’s met him and he’s upset that the former President is not
only taller than he expected but not ravaged with guilt. Zelnick asks if he’s
going to shake Nixon’s hand and Reston insists he won’t. The moment Nixon
offers it, he does so after barely a beat – something Zelnick rags him immediately
afterwards. This is likely a subtle commentary by Morgan on how academics live
in a separate world from the one they write about: later they attend Frost’s
birthday party and are starstruck to see that Neil Diamond is singing.
Also notable is
how both sides view the interviews. I find it interesting that Reston views it
as a trial and Nixon’s team views it as a battle or duel. This is very much how
the far left and far right seem to view politics and much of society in a microcosm:
Reston sees this as the rule of law, Brennan as a blood sport. If you ever
needed a reason why the Republicans have done so much better in electoral
politics to this day, there’s clearly a metaphor as to this.
Both Langella
and Sheen do everything that they did in the performance I saw but the camera
does help in a way it might not on the stage. Langella gets to play a side of
Nixon that had never truly been shown on screen, even by Anthony Hopkins in Oliver
Stone’s film. Nixon is trying to find a way to rehabilitate his image and sees
the Frost interviews as that possibility. We see a bit of the elder statesman
in his behavior when Frost appears, genuine amicability among Brennan who
clearly is a die-hard supporter and then a sense of the manipulator in the
sessions before the taping starts. He manages to manipulate Frost so subtly in
the first sessions the viewer might not be aware of it the first time and then
when Frost has been briefed, he waits seconds before the cameras roll to say: “Do
any fornicating last night?” At no point
does Langella attempt to do a Nixon impersonation; that would be beneath the
skills of his legendary actor. What he tries to give to do is give a portrayal
of the public face of Nixon while allowing for a look at what lies beneath with
a glance. Small wonder Langella received a Best Actor nomination for his work.
Sheen, as is
his lot in life, has a harder job. He has to play someone who has a well-known
public persona, who is openly charming and who is not particularly well
respected in public life – and do so acting like he knows all of this but is
putting up his on-camera persona at all time. And unlike Nixon who has the
office of the Presidency which offers some respect David Frost doesn’t even
have that among his own team. Only John Birt respects him and will say in
private what Frost won’t. It’s only after the third taping when Reston actually
calls him a talk show host that Frost comes close not only to snapping but
finally shows his misery at how bad things are going for him.
The highlight
of the film, as with the play, comes with what almost certainly a fictionalized
late-night conversation. A drunk Nixon calls Frost late at night when Frost is
at his nadir of despair and Nixon should be at his zenith. He tells him he’s
read Frost’s file and talks about their tragedy:
No matter how
many awards or column inches are written about you, or how high the elected
office is, it’s still not enough. We still feel like the little man. The loser.
They told us a hundred times, the smart asses in college, the high-ups, the
well-born. The people who’s respect we really wanted. Really craved. And isn’t
that why we work so hard now, why we fight for every inch…Isn’t that why we’re
here? Now the two of us. Looking for a way back into the sun, into the
limelight. Back to the winner’s podium…We were headed both of us for the dirt.
The place the snobs always told us we’d end up. Face in the dust, humiliated
all the more for having tried. So pitifully hard. Well, to hell with that! We’re
not going to let that happen, either of us. We’re going to show those bums; we’re
going to make ‘em choke on our continued success.”
When it’s over
Frost acknowledges that: “But only one of us can win.”
When this piece
played out on stage and Langella hung up, I remember the audience spontaneously
bursting into applause, which rarely happens in a traditional play. Langella
brings that same power into this monologue as well and it is magnificent. Morgan
uses this fictional conversation as Frost’s motivation to double down his work
in the leadup to the final taping session which fills up much of the last third
of the film. Historical scholars and those who saw the interviews no doubt
remember why that was such a critical moment, but it is not my place to reveal it
here.
Morgan goes out
of his way to argue this was a victory for David Frost and the power of the
medium. It points out that Nixon was never able to publicly rehabilitate his
reputation when he was alive. Death and future Republican Presidents have no
doubt managed to accomplish that as Ebert’s own review made clear and I suspect
future viewers might come away with the same impression.
What may be the
most significant moment in Frost/Nixon is one that I doubt was in the
play and is almost ignored in the film. One of the members of Nixon’s team is a
very young Diane Sawyer. Her character has no real dialogue but I’m always reminded of when both teams go
into different rooms when the taping begins and Zelnick seems to be always
looking daggers at Sawyer who just meets his stare evenly. Sawyer of course has
gone on to be one of the most respected broadcast journalists in television
history but I have little doubt that there have always been those like Zelnick
who viewed her with suspicion for ‘working with the enemy’. Sawyer has long
been part of that ‘liberal media’ that Nixon famously chastises and I suspect
that those who worked for Roger Ailes and the cable news networks that followed
never forgave her for betraying her ‘conservative roots’.
Were the Frost
interviews of Nixon a stepping stone to the era of polarizing of cable news
that we see today? Roger Ailes did cut his teeth interviewing Nixon after all and
he famously worked with Lee Atwater in Reagan and George H.W. Bush’s political campaigns
in 1984 and 1988. I have no doubt he watched these interviews with great
interest and perhaps started thinking of a way that future Republicans could
find more comfortable settings where the questions would be more fair and
balanced. He certainly understood the power of television as well as David
Frost did.