Frost/Nixon

Frost/Nixon

Austin Playhouse, through Oct. 11

Running time: 2 hr, 15 min

In 1977, Muhammad Ali went up against human pile-driver Earnie Shavers in a punishing 15 rounds that nearly cost the aging champ his heavyweight title. But playwright Peter Morgan would have you believe that was the second biggest prizefight of that year, the first being the no-holds-barred bout between heavyweight ex-President Richard Milhous Nixon and bantamweight TV host David Frost. In his docudrama Frost/Nixon, Morgan serves up the taping of the historic interviews as a boxing match, with the two facing off under the lights in sessions as strictly timed as rounds, then retiring to their "corners," where their coachlike handlers talk of landing blows and being on the ropes.

Painting this intellectual confrontation in such physical terms is canny, in its commentary on the psychology of the combatants and their camps – who saw themselves as adversaries and this showdown as ending with a definite winner and loser – and the way it draws us in to this static mental duel and teases us into viewing it the way we would an action-packed sporting match.

And there are moments in this Austin Playhouse production when we're watching David Stahl's Frost and Michael Stuart's Nixon, sitting rigidly still in their upholstered chairs, and almost see them dancing around a ring, slugging it out. In Stahl's piercing gaze and sharp, insistent voice, there's an aggressive challenger on the offensive, peppering his opponent with rabbit punches. Stuart's narrowed eyes and measured, impassive responses are the stuff of the veteran fighter, deftly fending off blows and biding his time. When these two are locked in combat, the production is at its best: focused, taut, with the stakes clearly laid out and two players in top form playing off each other expertly like, well, pro boxers.

The rest of the show, however, has that energy but not always the same finesse. Too often, minor conflicts between characters are treated like title bouts, with actors pumping up the volume to show how serious a situation is and hitting lines emphatically that might be more effectively thrown away. It leaves this work that trades so heavily on contemporary naturalism feeling at times as stilted and forced as a classical period piece. Perhaps director Don Toner felt the clash between the titular competitors would feel even more dramatic with the emotion amped up beforehand, but the effect is closer to a barrage of wild punches that never quite find their mark.

The most effective fighter is often the one who carefully marshals his energy and waits for the right moment to deliver a blow. That's how Stuart works here, and his contained, nuanced performance just keeps gathering power as the show progresses. Despite a rather distracting hairpiece and makeup better suited to a much larger theatre, Stuart creates a compelling portrait of Nixon, by turns reserved, resentful, rueful, competitive, sly in strategy, ungainly in social situations, protective of his legacy, appreciative of an adversary. He makes us feel the weight upon the man's shoulders, the burden of the mistakes he recognizes, and his hunger for redemption in the eyes of the American people, and that gives us a Nixon much easier to comprehend, and even to like, than the real one ever was. To pull that off takes a real champ. Mr. Stuart, the belt is yours.