After he resigned in 1974, former president Richard Nixon wanted to appeal the public’s good graces. He chose to be interviewed by Britain’s David Frost, best known for appearing in comedy programs such as That Was the Week That Was. The intention was to choose an interviewer who wouldn’t ask tough questions (imagine someone today trying the same tactic on a show like Late Night with Conan O’Brien).

But a funny thing happened on the way to recovery: Frost asked tough questions about the most important issue: Watergate. He showed the former President in a vulnerable state and got him to apologize to the American people. Over 40 million people watched the interview.

So, then, what is the appeal of Frost/Nixon, which offers a dramatic retelling of the event (first to stage, and now to film)? Director Ron Howard and writer Peter Morgan attempt to tell this story, with mixed success, to those who wanted the story behind the interview or wanted to be a fly on the wall of the behind-the-scenes drama.

As the film opens, Nixon (Frank Langella) is still reeling from the Watergate fallout. His life is reduced to giving banal anecdotes at such events as an orthodontist convention. While he is preparing a book to humanize himself, he figures a television interview couldn’t hurt either.

Simultaneously, TV presenter Frost (Michael Sheen) loves his work and the parties that go with it, but seeks a more legitimate reputation. He figures that scoring an interview with Nixon could be just the thing to make this happen, despite the obstacles standing in his way (namely, getting psychologically outdone by the man).

The interview is the centerpiece of the film. Frost agrees to spend only 25% of the total speaking time on Watergate, and the subject is last to be covered in a series of several interviews. And when these talks begin, Nixon silences and humiliates Frost, as he expected to. But Frost is persistent and prepared when it comes time to discuss Watergate, and that’s all that matters.

Nixon, in a way, contributes to this reversal of fortune. Late one night, a slightly-intoxicated Nixon calls Frost at his hotel. The conversation begins pleasantly enough before the President harangues about snobs. He figures Frost is like him in that he’s had to deal with more than his fair share of critics; that they “still feel like the little man, the loser.” And this is why it seems the two were destined to meet; they both constantly deflect a barrage of personal criticisms.

If you’ve seen the actual interview, the re-enactment is still gripping work. Certain things have been changed, as is necessary for a dramatization. The lighting is more ominous, certain dialogue is omitted and Nixon’s speech is fueled by more intense tics than in reality, which featured a tempered yet composed Nixon. The changes enhance the natural drama present in the interviews, and add a layer to history.

Frost/Nixon’s success hinges on its two lead actors, and they both shine. Michael Sheen plays Frost with just enough vim and buoyancy that we see why audiences wouldn’t take him seriously and his transformation to competent, steadfast interviewer is a nice, subtle process. But as good as Sheen is, the movie belongs to Langella. No doubt that Nixon is a difficult part; not only has his voice been parodied so many times, but Langella doesn’t really resemble Tricky Dick either. Yet, he transcends caricature and develops Nixon as a three-dimensional figure haunted by his past yet always playing political mind games. You feel sympathy for Nixon while also feeling contempt. Langella won a Tony for this portrayal, and an Oscar would also be well-deserved.

Even though the film thrives on the strength of its leading performances, the supporting roles are nothing to write home about. And these are great name actors in these parts too, but they play their parts as if they’re resigned to the fact that their characters are underdeveloped and only exist because they have to (neither Frost nor Nixon prepared for the event alone, you know). Toby Jones, Oliver Platt, Sam Rockwell, and Kevin Bacon are the most high-profile of the wasted talent onscreen.

Additionally, one of the biggest structural mistakes is the inclusion of these secondary characters being interviewed about the experience. Speaking to the audience from an unspecified time in the future, these blue-tinged scenes only serve the purpose of needless exposition, and also maybe giving these actors a little bit more to do. Nothing ruins an emotional scene quite like having someone explain to you exactly what you are supposed to feel from that scene.

I haven’t seen Frost/Nixon on stage, but I have a feeling the dramatic adaptation works better in that format. A stronger emphasis on acting and an isolation of scenery seems to fit this story better. As it is, the film adaptation only enhances the famous interview to a small degree. Solid dramatic work to be sure, but I’d prefer simply watching the actual broadcast instead. It has enough drama and intrigue to rival any movie.