Sundance Report: Here Are Some Ultra-Juicy Revelations From the Anthony Weiner Documentary

The new documentary Weiner is as much about the media’s rabid hunt and bottomless appetite for lurid, sensational stories as it is about the rise and fall of Anthony Weiner, the disgraced former congressman who ran for mayor of New York. And so in that spirit, here are, right off the bat, several titillating revelations from the movie, which premiered on Sunday at the Sundance Film Festival:

• Weiner and his wife, Huma Abedin, discussed separating after his first lewd photo scandal in 2011; it took many months of therapy for her to forgive him.

• Weiner suggests that Abedin, a top aide to former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, was a major influence in his decision to run for mayor. “Huma was eager to get her life back, and running for mayor was the straightest line to doing that,” he says.

• Abedin was active in the early stages of Weiner’s campaign, making campaign appearances and fundraising phone calls to well-connected friends (despite loathing the activity).

• Contrary to reports, there was no footage removed from the documentary to appease the Clinton campaign, according to directors Elyse Steinberg and Josh Kriegman. We never see any Clinton adviser in the film, though in a phone call with Abedin, Philippe Reines suggests that she not appear with Weiner on the trail.

• Sydney Leathers, the Indianapolis woman who helped expose Weiner a second time, stalked the candidate in New York near the end of his campaign. Weiner’s staffers referred to her by a code name: Pineapple.

• Anthony Weiner has seen the Warren Beatty satire film Bullworth, and really took its message to heart.

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When he gave permission to Steinberg and Kriegman to make the documentary, Weiner had to have visions of a recording of his triumphant return to public life; Kriegman, before he began his career as a filmmaker, spent several years as Weiner’s congressional chief of staff. And after a brief recap of the fiery congressman’s initial rise and fall, the film does document the Brooklyn politician’s unexpectedly strong initial return to politics.

From the start of his campaign, both the media and Weiner’s opponents sought to brand him as a liar (and, in some cases, a pervert) who could not be trusted running the nation’s biggest city. But his fighting spirit resonated with New Yorkers, as did his pitch to outer-borough middle-class families who had seen the city become hugely more expensive under billionaire Mayor Michael Bloomberg. By mid-summer, he was leading the polls in the Democratic primary for mayor.

Weiner, who allowed Steinberg and Kriegman to film both in his home and on the trail, was incredibly confident and dynamic while campaigning, admitting that he’d made mistakes but was more focused on helping working New Yorkers. He submits to every interview, even when advised otherwise by his staff (including a phone call with infamous New York Post columnist Andrea Peyser), and is convinced that the public has forgiven his transgressions.

And, it seemed like New Yorkers had indeed decided to give him a second chance. Unfortunately for Weiner, he had no second Get Out of Jail card when Leathers came forward in late July.

Leathers, a 22-year-old woman from Indiana, had spent over a year texting with Weiner after the initial scandal that led to his resignation, and ultimately leaked very graphic photos that the candidate had sent her during their conversations. The revelation ignited an even bigger firestorm, engulfing Weiner’s entire campaign and personal life, including his relationship with Abedin.

It’s remarkable how measured Weiner is while speaking about his illicit relationships with his sexual correspondents; as he explains at one point in the doc, he viewed many of them as pen pals and fans. Leathers admits to initially having reached out to Weiner in admiration for his fiery brand of liberal politics, and wound up fielding what she alleges to be endless calls for phone sex, sometimes five times in one day.

Weiner is actually calm through much of the madness, and only shows signs of real frustration when dealing with members of the media who ask the same question over and over again. In one particularly memorable sequence, he goes on the offensive against MSNBC host Lawrence O'Donnell, who repeatedly asks him about his mental health. When Weiner watches the clip online the next day, he’s mighty pleased with himself, much to the dismay of Abedin, who is clearly fed up with her husband but too media-savvy to show it on camera beyond the unavoidable grimaces and frowns.

It has to be humiliating for her, as the media focuses on the gross — and, ultimately, pointless — specifics of Weiner’s misdeeds: How many women did he text? When did he text them? What did he text them? When did he stop? How many women have yet to come forward?

Whether he’s optimistic or simply delusional, Weiner holds on to the belief that he will weather this storm, as well, and that his connection with the voters will survive the obsessiveness of the media coverage. But he’s pounded incessantly by a horde of camera people and reporters at every stop, none of whom has a single question about any policy proposal that he’s trying to communicate to the public. Even with the ability to release his own videos on the Internet, Weiner’s line of communication to voters is essentially clogged by scandal.

The packed auditorium in Park City seemed to have sympathy for Weiner, or at least were embarrassed for the candidate as his train wreck of a campaign continued to veer toward oblivion. There were ample laughs, especially at some of Abedin’s reactions to her husband’s oddly cheerful moods. And coming out of the theater, audience members were overheard discussing the relative innocuousness of Weiner’s misdeeds in the context of national politics.

Near the end of the campaign, Weiner declares that he’s tired of being bullied, and goes on the offensive. His campaign appearances turn raucous — especially at various parades — and he takes on voters nose-to-nose, including one Orthodox Jewish man who calls him a disgrace and makes a racial slur about Abedin. With nothing to lose politically, Weiner goes into Bullworth mode, channeling the truth-telling senator that Beatty played in the 1998 satire.

He is not without any self-awareness, of course; near the end of the film, he says ruefully, “I have this virtually unlimited ability to f–k up things day by day.” He seems almost amazed at how aggressively he screwed up, even if he refuses to give in.

The film reaches its climax on election night, when Leathers shows up at a party that Weiner throws for his supporters. The absurdity reaches new heights, as the candidate’s loyal staff has to enact a covert plan to get him into the restaurant without Leathers’s knowing; as he rushes through the back of a McDonalds, chased by a screaming (and scantily clad) Leathers, it’s incredible to believe that it’s politics we’re watching — it’s more like a reality show.

Weiner will hit theaters on May 20, and air on Showtime in the fall.