Sylvan LaChance Professor Fulsom October 17, 2013 Silent Victory It is rather easy for a cultural memory to transform

in essence, to shift in meaning or to fade away altogether as the wheel of time turns on. Things that consume us today will be a distant memory at the end of our lives, and most events will become either trivialized or lost forever. Perhaps the only record that will remain of those affairs will be among the scattering of newspaper articles or diary entries. But the raw emotions the visceral feelings that accompany any response at some point, can only be imagined. As a society we rely on books, art and filmmaking to resurrect past realities and sentiments. Because of this dependence and the ephemeral limit to the American attention span, we have placed a tremendous amount of power in the hands of artists and writers. They have the ability to remember history through a constructed lens, and soon enough, when the cultural memory fades, their interpretation may be the only remnant to survive. Every American alive during Watergate has a memory to share when asked about it. They remember the shock of learning the burglars were connected to the Committee to Re-Elect the President, or where they were when Nixon resigned. They remember how angry they were when they discovered the truth or how uneasy they felt with the anticlimactic finish of Fords pardon. What happens when these people are gone? Any distortion of Watergate or its surrounding drama can be measured against the testimonies of first hand accounts. Soon, that wont be the

case, and history will be left with a slew of films, speeches and books to make sense of. The film Frost/Nixon portrays the filming process of a series of interviews the former President gave in 1977. David Frost, a British media personality whose career was in desperate need of a boost, initiated the interviews. Interviewing one of the most vilified men in American history, he thought, would certainly be beneficial to his ratings. Nixon had various incentives to cooperate as well. Apart from a multitude of lawyers fees to pay, Nixon had an unwavering desire to set the record straight, or at least tailor it to include more of his achievements. Watergate had become the main focus and legacy of his time in office, and he wanted the chance to communicate his triumphs and to explain his failures. Both Frost and Nixon had a lot to gain from successful interviews. Nixon wanted to tell his side of the story and Frost wanted Nixon to tell him what he had never told the American people. The film had some obvious challenges at the outset. The interviews needed to capture the attention of an audience over 4 decades removed from an event. It had to be riveting. An event from the 70s needed to capture the screen like a modern day drama, bringing with it all the emotions and suspense of a Hollywood Blockbuster. The pressure to fill the theaters and the pockets of producers, however, may have taken a toll on the historical accuracy of the film. David Frost and Richard Nixon were set up as adversaries, and the interviews were their playing field. The film depicts each man as having to outwit the other. Nixon tried to steal the show with his lengthy answers and digressing

responses. Frost, although apparently quite intimidated at first, tried to nail Nixon to the wall. Frost/Nixon shows a battle between two smart men with starving egos, both in need of saving their reputations. The fall of the other was critical. Consumed by the need to popularize an event 70% of Americans were not alive for, the filmmakers definitely dramatized the interviews. Of course, every battle must have a victor, at least from a moviemaking standpoint. Therefore, the film became about Frost and his rise to victory. It became about Frost winning, about him delivering the final blow and forcing Nixon to own up to all he had done. There are definite problems with this approach. When comparing Frost/Nixon to the footage from the real interviews, there is a stark difference. The combination of storyline leading up to the moment, of lighting and ominous music, gives the impression that Nixon was handing over everything to Frost. In reality, Frost received very little. He wanted the former President to admit wrongdoing, but every attempt was met with a statement such as thats your opinion and I have my opinion, or that is your interpretation, as if Nixons crimes were subjective. Frost wanted Nixon to apologize for putting the American people through two years of needless agony, but the most he got from Nixon was I let them down. When watching the real interviews, it is apparent that Frost did not get the victory he had hoped for. At most, it was a stalemate. Certain statements in the interview are reconstructed to make Nixon appear as if he is giving up more. In Frost/Nixon, Nixon admits in a moment of vulnerability that he let the American people down. He let down the American system of government. He let down every young person who ought to get into government but now thinks

its too corrupt. He tells Frost that those are the burdens he will live with for the rest of his life. What the film omitted was Nixons biggest regret, which not only displays Nixons own self-centeredness but also dilutes the value of the apology. He says, Most of all, I let down an opportunity that I wouldve had for two and half more years to proceed on great projects and programs for building a lasting peace, which has been my dream. In his moment of truth, he admits he let himself down more than anything else. That statement harms the sincerity of each that came before it. His biggest regret was his own loss of power. Nixon did not affirmatively admit to illegal activity. He maintained that his mistakes were mistakes of the heart, not the head. He tells Frost that technically, he did not commit an impeachable offense. In the end, he regretted how he dealt with things but always reminded Frost that his motives were not malicious. Frost/Nixon needed a hero. It needed a character and a cause the audience could root for. While in reality, the end product was insufficient, the film made it out to be the main prize, as if Nixons words would satisfy the questions and angers of the nation. Frost may have been the man everyone wished was the victor, but who actually won? Nixon walked away with not only $600,000, but also a promise of 20% of the profit from selling the series to the networks. He had managed to go through hours of questioning without actually admitting guilt. All he offered was what some people could call an apology. He walked out a richer man with a lovely place in San Clemente to call home. He got the chance to explain himself on

television while emphasizing his accomplishments in office. It was a silent victory for Nixon, but a victory nonetheless. Frost/Nixon fails to create a villain in its characterization of Nixon. In fact, the film sympathizes with Nixon to an extent. It shows his sadness and his loneliness while only offering brief glimpses of his bitterness. It shows Nixon desperately attempting to have human moments, however fleeting, but ultimately failing because he is lacking in that certain element. After the interviews are completed, Nixon walks out into the street and notices a woman with a dachshund. He gives the little dog some attention, as if he is trying to feel something too. After a short interaction he walks away in cluelessness, apparently unable to engage in any normalcy. Then, as Frost and Nixon have their final encounter, Nixon asks Frost if he actually enjoys throwing parties and having company. Frost admits that he genuinely does, and Nixon doesnt seem to be able to grasp that. He makes the comment that perhaps their careers should have been swapped, and Frost laughs and returns to his car. Nixon is left all alone overlooking the ocean. His whole life has been a giant act of pretending of never understanding human relations or the complexity of conscience. The film leaves him there, envious of Frost and still desiring to be loved. Historical filmmakers have a great responsibility to tell the truth. Frost/Nixon includes accurate dialogue and personality quirks, but it also omits crucial parts of the story in an attempt to celebrate David Frost. The slaying of the dragon was not as decisive as the film makes it out to be, and Nixon leaves the interviews with much more than he goes in with. He was undeniably a troubled

man, but he was also unpunished, and no one not even Frost could bring him to admit his guilt. Nixon took his secrets and all the things the American public wanted to hear from him to his grave. Frosts interviews were far from unimportant. They captured the face of the former President in a light no one had seen before. But to portray Frost as the hero who got exactly what he wanted robs the American people of the real truth they needed to hear from Nixon and of the justice Nixon was never served. Frost may have been the man we were rooting for, but Nixon stole a silent victory.