Am I Wrong, For Thinking This???????????????????

                              Readers having been on here many times know that Truman Capote is one of my favorite writers.  One of his more beautiful pieces of writing is a short story he wrote about loss and loneliness, with the beautiful, poetic title, "Among The Paths To Eden."

                               This was dramatized and first telecast, on ABC-TV, back on December, 17, 1967.  It was incorporated into a film called "Trilogy," in 1970, consisting of it and two other Capote dramatizations, "Miriam," and the classic "A Christmas Memory," with Geraldine Page.

                                 Several days ago, I had a chance to see "Among The Paths To Eden."  It is essentially a one-act, two character play.  The two are superbly played by Martin Balsam and Maureen Stapleton.  It is moving, heartbreaking, but not altogether depressing, nothing like "A Dollar, A Dream" on "Cold Case."

                                  The story is simple.  A widower named Ivor Belli (Balsam), who has recently lost his wife, Rose, is putting flowers on her grave, when he meets spinster Mary O' Meaghan (Stapleton), who has recently lost her father. They are in a Queens cemetery.  As the unmarried one of three sisters, she stayed home to care for her father, the mother having passed away.  It was that time, darlings.

                                    A rapport develops between them, and continues into a blossoming friendship. Only a writer of Capote's genius could believably make something like this happen so quickly.  As they get more comfortable, with one another, the loneliness of Stapleton's character becomes wrenching, and the viewer longs for her to find happiness.  Only someone of her stature and technique could make what in lesser hands would be campy, and that is the scene where she flings one leg over a gravestone--I am not kidding, girls!!!!!!!--and does a vocal impersonation of Helen Morgan.  The heartbreak and yearning in this moment is so palpable coming from her, that it works!   Having done that, Mary Meaghan extends to Ivor an open invitation to come to her house for dinner, where she will serve him the best spaghetti and meatballs.  There is no pity in the way Balsam plays the response, replying with a polite, but non-committed, acceptance.  Later, as the viewer might suspect, he turns her down, honestly admitting he just is not ready.  Mary, though disappointed, accepts that, and, Ivor asks her if he can walk her to the entrance gate.  She agrees, and goes on to say how, upon her father passing, her sisters urged her to get married, and she counters it is not easy, having lived so long with her father, never having worked, and the problem of aging out and being unattractive--many of these still valid concerns, but Stapleton wins more sympathy by delivering this dialogue so softly and matter of factly, with no hysteria or anger, that the viewer wishes nothing but the best for this woman.  As should be.

                                But here is where things take a turn.  If "Among The Paths To Eden" had ended with a shot of the two stepping outside the gates, and the camera following them, as they vanish, in separate directions, what I am about to say would not have occurred to me.  I would have been perfectly happy with this ending, but I have a feeling Capote might have been going for something else, though not what I came up with.

                                They get to the gate, and, as they are saying farewell, another man, an unknown actor, is seen walking into the cemetery.  Mary bids farewell, Ivor walks away, and disappears, but the last shot shows Mary, a good distance from the other guy, following him into the cemetery, where, presumably, the story will repeat itself.

                                 I do think Capote was going for something darker.  The story could have been set anywhere; the South, for sure, but takes place in a cemetery in Queens.  Capote spent a lot of time in New York, so he probably came to know what many of us do--Brooklyn is the Borough Of Churches, while Queens is the Borough Of Cemeteries.  It also has more loneliness and isolation, per capita, and, having lived there, myself, I refer to it as the Borough Of Despair.

                                  I am sure Capote was trying to mine this, ending with the desperation of Mary, following another man into the cemetery.  I should add that in her parting monologue, she says two of her friends suggested this method; that they, or friends of theirs, met husbands, while visiting a cemetery.

                                   Sweeties, I read this story when young, and later, as an adult, and during my spinsterhood, I never thought this an option.  Now, here is the other grabber, which I wonder if it would have occurred to me, had I viewed it back in 1967, even if I were the age I am now.

                                     As I watched Mary follow the man from behind,  I thought, "My God, is she stalking him?"  Is she?  Is Mary stalking?  Stapleton makes Mary a genuinely moving figure, with no underlying signs of overt pathology, so why would I think this?  Is it because of post-"Fatal Attraction?"  Have I become so jaded??????? I hope not, because I still came away, holding out hope for Mary.

                                      What do you think, girls?  Stalking has been going on long before Capote wrote this story, though I don't recall the phrase really being coined until around the time Theresa Saldana was attacked.

                                        I still came away, with hope for Mary.  There are, after all, many paths to Eden.  But what does it say about our culture, or myself, that this other thought crossed my mind?

                                        You tell me, dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!