John Edwards: Soon to be a Major Motion Picture
I should have known that by the time the John Edwards story began to make even my stomach curdle, it was ready for its close-up (after hair and make-up, of course):
Back before they realized John was knocking up videographers while his wife lay dying, Edwards’ staff worried that his beverage choices were too girly:
He had very weird soda preferences. For the longest time it was all Sprite Zero. And then at one point the word came down that he would no longer drink Sprite Zero. He would only drink Diet Orange Sunkist. And Diet Orange Sunkist can be very difficult to find on short notice. It had to be in cans. It could not be in bottles. We’d pick him up at the airport you’d have to have a cooler of that and white wine on ice.
Whoever plays Edwards has to have the hair, above all else. Costner would need augmentation in that department (but not others, so we hear!), and Clooney doesn’t reek of white trash.
The late John Ritter is a dead ringer for Edwards…:


But also just plain dead.
Ed Norton might be right…

No, look over there—to the right. The dude. Oh, for pete’s sake, men are such pigs:

There, see the resemblance?
And we know he can play debased and deranged:

Anyway, where were we?
We all bought the spin. Until the pregnancy stuff surfaced, it wasn’t that crazy a story, just a report that he had an affair with a videographer. But when the other layers came out—the child, and the timing with Elizabeth’s cancer—it became more monstrous.
…
Listerine heiress and Jackie Onassis bosom buddy Bunny Mellon’s “Bunny money” also played a role:
Everybody knew about the Bunny money, though not that it was part of that [the sex scandal]. Everybody knew ‘Bunny money’ as this rich heiress who thought [Edwards] was the reincarnation of Robert Kennedy. You sort of pieced it together by working backwards: You hear the story about Rielle living in a house, and you know she doesn’t have an income. You know that Fred [Baron] has a billion dollars, and you know Fred would do anything for John.
That’s when I knew it had to be a movie: when the loaded dowager (played by Joanne Woodward? Shirley MacLaine? Betty White?) believed Edwards to be the second coming of RFK. And why not? Another cut-throat with nice hair and a long trail of mistresses in his past—Edwards could play him in a movie.
I see the picture opening up with panning shot of devastation and ruin: Haiti after the quake. We hear moans from the dying and cries of children lost and frightened. Violins play a dirge of heartbreaking poignancy, its march-like rhythm matching the stride of a determined man. Just then, the pan reaches the beach, and one man is shown walking seemingly from nowhere out of the surf. He is there to help. He is there to make it better. He is there to sue.
Asked about Edwards’ recent camera-friendly trip to Haiti, the staffer comes as close to rolling his eyes as one can by telephone:
I think there is less than zero chance of him ever having a public career again. And I am absolutely positive that he will try. He’s addicted to it. He needs attention. … He was the kind of guy who’d been told all his life he was the golden child. I think that’s what Rielle tapped into. She told him he was the golden child, and I think he liked to believe that.
…
The guy needs professional help. There’s a big-ass screw loose in that guy’s head, and unless he gets professional help, it’s going to stay loose.
And there’s your working title: Big-Ass Screw Loose.



