Nixon

Anthony Hopkins does not merely portray Richard Nixon as a cheap caricature, as Frank Langella did in Ron Howard's pointless Frost/Nixon. He creates a living, breathing human being that we can all relate to, while still adopting the notorious president's signature speech patterns and mannerisms.

Oliver Stone's direction is nothing short of a miracle. As in his 1991 masterpiece, JFK, he has a lot of different characters to bring to life on the screen. He helps his actors fashion their performances with miraculous accuracy. Paul Sorvino is dead-on as Henry Kissinger, as is Joan Allen as Pat Nixon, and Bob Hoskins as the mysterious, mean-spirited J. Edgar Hoover.

The writing is also represents a triumph. Stone and co. are able to synthesize entire pages of historical prose into digestible chunks of dialogue. Aspiring screenwriters should seriously take note.

Although 1995 also saw the likes of Casino, Seven, Heat, and The Usual Suspects, Nixon is the ultimate champion. History on screen has rarely been this exhilarating.

Hopkins is remarkable as Nixon. Wisely not even trying for an exact likeness, his interpretation of that so-familiar physicality is uncannily evocative. From the very start, the characterisation is spot-on - the jut of the lower jaw, the growly voice, the rounded shoulders. Once the viewer has adjusted to the initial shock, Hopkins IS Nixon. It ceases to be an issue.

Theodore Roosevelt, Washington, Kennedy and (most of all) Lincoln look down from the White House walls at Nixon, their solemn portraits hovering like admonishing ghosts over the Watergate squalor. In life, Roosevelt was bold and self-assured, whereas Nixon dithers: Washington's self-effacing propriety confronts a Nixon who is suggesting that the Nazis were right. Kennedy is everything that Nixon could never be - above all else, at ease with himself. Lincoln looks down, from the office wall and from his marble seat in the Memorial, in silent rebuke as his successor debases the presidency.

Some of the camera tricks don't work. We see Nixon rooted to the spot at Love Field as the camera soars up and away from him. Why? Obtrusive camera movement is justified only if it adds to our understanding of character or plot. This shot seems to have been included merely for its cleverness. The same is true of the little flashes of black-and-white which keep interrupting the action. At one point, in a dialogue between Nixon and Haldeman, the focus is un-subtly and repeatedly thrown from one man to the other. What does this achieve? Is some artistic goal being pursued, or are the effects included for their own sake? What is the symbolic importance (if any) of the vanishing racehorses?

Much of the attention to detail is of a very high order. Stone's writing team has done its homework, and we get authentic touches such as Nixon's love of log fires, which meant having to run the White House air conditioning system at full blast during summer. The reconstructions of the White House interiors are superb. We see Nixon and Pat engaging in a domestic scrap beneath murals of more edifying battles like Yorktown and Saratoga. Historical events, recorded on news film at the time, are brilliantly reconstituted, replacing the real Nixon with the Hopkins version. Thus we get convincing reconstructions of the Kennedy TV debate and the 1962 'retirement' speech. Young Nixon's courtship of Pat is narrated without dialogue as a grainy, jumpy home movie - and is beautifully done. I did not feel quite so positive about the Alger Hiss segment. Welles did this 'newsreel flashback' idea in "Citizen Kane" more than half a century earlier, and did it with such flair that anything which follows is sure to look jaded. It also seemed to me that this passage is badly-placed, coming immediately after the 1962 California defeat.

James Wood plays Bob Haldeman, and does his usual admirable, photogenic best. My quibble with the characterisation is, this isn't THE Haldeman. The historical personage was grimmer, more stately, more formidable (Fred Emery's "Watergate" bears this out). Wood is restricted here to the role of an aide, rather than the Chief of the White House Staff, an emperor within his own (not inconsiderable) domain.

Pat Nixon does not ring true either, but for different reasons. Joan Allen is more than competent as the steely, astute power behind the Nixon throne. The fault is in the characterisation rather than the actor. The real Pat was (so far as one can judge) an altogether less articulate, less philosophical, less knowing individual. Watch her in the REAL "Checkers" broadcast - she is a stiff, repressed, passive woman, a true 1950's Republican wife, not the power broker that this film would have us believe. It is hard to accept, for example, that Nixon's decision to retire in 1962 was his wife's diktat.

There are elements of this otherwise excellent film which simply don't work. Would the President of the United States REALLY be pulled out of a face-to-face meeting with Brezhnev to deal with some Watergate minutiae? The real-life Mitchell said that he tolerated Martha's indiscretions "because I love her". This touching declaration is cheapened in the film, for no good reason. Similarly, Tricia Nixon's exchange with her father was, in real life, an assertion of unconditional loyalty which was both moving and very much to Nixon's credit. The film version has her asking sceptically, "Did you cover up?" This is quite wrong. The Nixon women would have considered it treachery even to frame such a question.

John Williams' epic score is in keeping with the classical tragedy acted out before us. Nixon's tearful prayer with Kissinger and the farewell speech to the White House staff are scenes of extraordinary power.

Paul Sorvino gives us a marvellous Kissinger, though in my humble opinion Stone goes too far when he makes Kissinger the White House 'leaker' and accuses the Secretary of State of complicity in the Watergate break-ins.

One scene which works splendidly is the (true) incident at the Lincoln Memorial. Nixon tries to glad-hand the indignant youngsters, using the hearty, patronising approach of a bygone generation. The sad revulsion of the protesters shows the gulf between Nixon's consciousness and the spirit of the age.

"I hope I haven't let you down" is uttered one single time by Nixon, towards the end of the film. The truth is, he hit on this formula of words and used it again and again during the final days of his presidency. It was a last desperate attempt to tweak our sympathy-nodes. As such, it was utterly gauche, utterly craven, utterly guileful, yet utterly unrealistic. In fact, utterly Nixon.

Watergate hardly gets a mention in this film. We see the 'plumbers' donning rubber gloves, and the president fumbling with a few of his tapes, but detail is almost totally eschewed. There is no Egil Krogh, no Jeb Magruder. Kleindienst and Gray are mentioned only in passing. Cox is fired by way of a spoken TV bulletin, Jaworski is not referred to at all. We do not see anything of the titanic courtroom struggles, with all three branches of the federal government locking horns. Though we are told that the American Constitution is self-righting, like a boat immune from capsize, we are not shown how or why.

And in this, Oliver Stone is perfectly right. As it stands, the film is very long, and dense with detail. There is no room for the minutiae of the cover-up, which in any event would make for a confusing narrative. Stone's subject is Nixon the man, not the edifice that toppled around him.

And what a man. Richard Milhous Nixon is a truly fascinating personality - both statesman and charlatan: ruthless and vulnerable: unable to express his emotions, yet the most emotional of politicians: a man who spent his life in the law and in high office, but who never absorbed the legal and ethical mores of public life. Genius and crook, bold visionary and spiteful backstabber, Nixon will continue to spellbind biographers for decades to come.

"That's when it starts," says Stone's Nixon, "when you're a kid." The film takes us to Whittier, California in 1925 to see the unloved boy who struggled painfully to earn his parents' approval, without ever quite succeeding. As a teenager, he levered his way into the school football squad by sheer willpower. Lacking talent, he doggedly subjected himself to repeated physical battering in the scrimmages, "a tackle dummy with guts". This syndrome recurs throughout his career. Always susceptible to scathing criticism, never quite commanding respect, Nixon never the less kept ploughing back into the melee when wiser, lesser men would have quit. It is hardly surprising that the years of punishment should have left psychological scars.

Nixon's hatred of John Kennedy had more than one source. He was devastated by the defeat in the 1960 presidential election, but not simply because of disappointment at losing, or even because the Kennedy victory carried the odour of fraud: bitterest of all for Nixon was the realisation that the Kennedy people had played hardball more effectively than the Republicans. Nixon had been out-sharked, and it hurt. On a more profound level still, John Kennedy was everything that Nixon could never be. He was a smooth, handsome prince among men, exuding poise and confidence, a patrician imbued with the habit of authority. To Nixon, the perpetual outsider, the quaker geek who looked shoddy and disreputable, Kennedy seemed to have the dice unfairly loaded in his favour. JFK was an East Coast bright boy and war hero, fabulously wealthy and impeccably well-connected. Nixon owned nothing and knew nobody, and was all too obviously 'on the make'. The great witch-hunts, of Hiss in the 1940's and Ellsberg in the 1970's, are manifestations of the chip on Nixon's shoulder, the fathomless bile that he directed at East Coast college boys.

Nixon always imagined that he was hiding his pain from the world, whereas in fact it was on global display. His nervous little laugh at moments of emotional crisis was so false, so gut-wrenchingly inappropriate, that the onlooker could catch a glimpse of the man's tortured soul. Hopkins captures the wretched laugh with devastating effectiveness, both in the scene where Nixon is confronted by a hostile man in the TV studio audience, and when he solemnly promises that none of the president's men will go to jail. In the "Checkers" broadcast and the presidential TV address on Watergate, Nixon tries to assure the camera that he is not a crook, and on both occasions he has the exact opposite effect, confirming to the viewer that that is precisely what he is. Nixon seems incapable of examining his own conscience: there is a hard core which his rational mind cannot penetrate. Maybe that is why Stone has him referring to himself in the third person throughout the film.

'They' were always out to get Nixon, without it ever being made clear just exactly who 'they' might be. The imperative for this deeply paranoid man was always to be braced, ready for the coming tackle, or to organise pre-emptive strikes against 'them'. Obstructing justice and tampering with evidence were, to Nixon, self-defensive steps that did not need to be justified. It was obvious that such things had to be done. The mystery at the heart of Watergate - why a president so steeped in criminal conspiracy should tape-record his own intimate conversations - makes sense when viewed from Nixon's end of the telescope. He had to have the goods on his own men, ready for the day when they turned on him. It goes even further. This emotional cripple could not bare his bleeding soul to anyone, so his tapes became his confessional and his confidante. Stone's film repeatedly shows Nixon in his awkward arms-extended, double V-sign pose. It is not by chance that it looks like a crucifixion.

Richard Nixon's (Oscar-nominee Anthony Hopkins) life is told from his early childhood days in 1920s California to his disgraceful resignation in 1974 from the Watergate scandal (one of the stupidest and most trivial events of U.S. history). The 37th president of the U.S. lost the 1960 presidential election to JFK and then lost the California governor race of 1962. By 1963 it appears that Nixon is out of the spotlight for good politically and that he is struggling to keep his marriage to Pat Nixon (a superb turn by Oscar-nominee Joan Allen in arguably her finest role) alive. Things turn strange though as Nixon has strange meetings with big-time oil men in Texas (Larry Hagman leading the group) and even with J. Edgar Hoover (scene-stealer Bob Hoskins). It is obvious that there are some potentially sinister things going on from high-ranking people. Soon JFK is assassinated, the 1964 election becomes a mess for both parties as LBJ wins by default and then LBJ decides not to run in 1968. The Republicans once again turn to Nixon, but Nixon (full of self-doubt and inferiority complexes) is fearful that 1968 against RFK will be a repeat of 1960 (Nixon believes that JFK and the Democrats stole the 1960 presidency). More cloak and dagger situations occur and RFK is assassinated in California, leaving the door open for Nixon to win the presidency. Vietnam, a whole host of questionable allies (led by James Woods, E.G. Marshall, J.T. Walsh, David Paymer, David Hyde Pierce, Powers Boothe, Fyvush Finkel) and constant advisement from Henry Kissinger (an amazing transformation by Paul Sorvino, who rivals Hopkins' performance the whole way) end up turning Nixon's life upside down. Soon taped White House conversations and growing paranoia also pops up and public/national/international/military/social chaos ensues. While all this occurs the president's personal life is shown through flashbacks (Mary Steenburgen as his mother and Tony Goldwyn as his older brother dominate these parts of the film). We see two of his brothers dying of tuberculosis, his short courtship of his wife and various other parts of his early life that stand out. The Watergate break-in (led by Ed Harris) continues to be one of the strangest things that has ever happened (the motives of the apparent burglary have never been clear). 18 minutes of missing audio recordings are one of the biggest mysteries of the 20th Century. Director Oliver Stone (who received an Oscar nod for co-writing the script) surprisingly is unbiased with this film. Watching "Platoon", "Born on the Fourth of July" and "JFK" would lead one to believe that Stone would pull no punches with "Nixon". However he gives Nixon's story an element of truth and compassion. There are so many unknown things that went on with Nixon throughout his political career that Stone has to fill in lots of missing pieces with speculations (some that seem very logical and some not so much). Thus the film goes on and on (running about 195 minutes). Even with all the airtime though the film does not move slowly and never becomes dull. In fact it is one of those projects that could have gone on even longer and it still would have been an interest-generator. Whether you like, dislike or are indifferent when it comes to Nixon the person, "Nixon" the movie is an outstanding achievement that stands high with Stone's better works and also deceptively becomes one of the more under-rated and under-appreciated pictures of the 1990s. 5 stars out of 5.

After sitting through this painfully long and very drawn-out film, I can't help but feel that it is just slightly... redundant. I watched this with my father, who actually followed Nixon's career to some extent, and I can't deny that without his giving me cliff notes to explain actions and motivation of the characters every so often during the film, I wouldn't understand any of what happened. And that's the sad truth... if you don't know almost everything about Nixon, his time, the political situation, what happened during that period of time, etc. you won't understand it. The film hints at so many things, instead of making what happens clear, and presumes you know everything behind every situation, instead of providing any back-story. We get scene after scene, one situation after another with people we're supposed to know beforehand, situations we're expected to know of and understand and if you don't know of these, and you have no way of knowing them, you certainly won't know after watching the film. The film really isn't the story of Richard M. Nixon as much as it's Oliver Stone's objective presentation of him. How are we supposed to judge this man, his staff, or any of their actions when we don't know the situation or the background of it? Then there are of course those who do know these things... but why would they watch it? They already know the things presented in the movie, and probably from a far more reliable source. So, I guess what it comes down to is: who is this film actually aimed at? Who can watch this and really enjoy it? My father suggested that Stone's intention with this film was to tell the story to young Americans, teenagers who weren't even alive when what the film is about happened. A good cause, but again, it requires them to already know of Nixon. And that is ultimately this movies downfall. The plot is very good, and from what I understand, quite accurate. The pacing is... off, I think is the right word. It switches between going insanely fast and painfully slow, making the film a sure-fire head-ache machine. The acting is perfectly flawless, and most, if not all of the characters based on real people are historically accurate in personality and appearance. The time-line is somewhat messed up, but the basic idea is that Nixon is actually sitting and thinking back on all this stuff, so it makes perfect sense and is used nicely(as opposed to as a cheap gimmick). The film is good, definitely, it's just so limited in who it will appeal to, and the pacing is a real killer(and I don't mean that in the good way). I recommend this to anyone who is interested in Nixon and big fans of Oliver Stone. I suppose very big fans of members of the cast might want to give it a chance as well. 7/10