In her latest gesture of a humane tradition that includes everything from A-list fetus guarding to Yorkie rescue/fetishization, Cindy Adams today saves readers the $11 they would have shelled out to see Oliver Stone's W when it opens this October. While we'd obviously read a few mildly tantalizing reviews in the last month (which is evidently news to Adams, who appears to think she's the only one who's nabbed a copy of the script) it takes a certain rare, Cindyesque fortitude and genius to condense the entirety of Stanley Weiser's 125-page screenplay to a single gossip column in the New York Post:
Page 10 on Bill Clinton: "My mother waddles faster than that larda - -." Page 11: "We'll move these terr'ists to Guantanemera." Cheney: "Guantanamo." Bush: "Right." Then Bush to Cheney: "Vice, when we're in meetings I want you to keep a lid on it. Keep your ego in check. Remember, I'm the president."
Flashbacks have college-boy W. boozing, slacking off from work, in jail, calling his then-congressman father "Poppy." Sr. praising Jeb, castigating Jr., asking if he's "knocked up" a girl named Susie, complaining, "You never kept your word once . . . you're only good for partying, chasing tail, driving drunk . . . You deeply disappoint me." Repeat father and son arguments. Father: "I've had enough of your crap." Son: "I've had enough of you for a lifetime." Mama Barbara breaking up the near fisticuffs with announcing Jr. just made Harvard and Sr. responding, "But who do you think pulled the strings?" ...
Page 42. Checking a map, being told it passed "Humint," whereupon the President of the United States asks, "What's 'Humint' again?" and being told "It's Human Intelligence." A scene in which, auditing an Iraqi intercept, W. asks, "Wolfowitz, got any Maalox on you? . . . and while you're at it, trim your ear hairs." And Cheney checking his heart pills.
Then it struck us: Cindy Adams's distillation is W's shooting script. How else could we expect Stone to turn the film around in five months? And anyway, if it's not the script, then it should be; pair this up with the Uwe Boll Movie Challenge (Jeb Bush could be the requisite "little brother") — instant classic! In any event, we'd gladly crew up for any filmmaker with the vision and wherewithal to commit this to celluloid or tape. We promise not to tell the WGA.