PAUL BRYAN'S JOURNAL
From the diary about this episode:
New York City - en route to Brazil
Tuesday, October 4
Late getting into New York, but still managed the gallery date with Carolyn. The exhibition was definitely worth cutting corners to see. I liked much of what was on exhibition.
But Carolyn was overwhelmed by a single primitive titled East of the Equator by an artist named Da Silva, and bought it on the spot because it was so much like her husband's paintings. The verdict having been lost at sea, she isn't really sure he is dead.
Neither of us had enough knowledge to tell whether this new picture could have been painted by the same artist as those in her apartment, so I rang Kate to find out whom to ask.
We'd had a long call right after the race, and with Carolyn beside me, I kept things light, though it was obvious that Kate was suffering greatly, Armand's every organ and system weaker than the day before.
When I asked if she wanted me to come to Paris, she declined. At the end of the call,feeling some embarrassment over the triviality of the matter, I explained that, for a serious personal reason, Rachel's friend needed a primitive analysed, and Kate instantly named a man at Columbia.
Soon as I mentioned her name to him, he was over to Carolyn's in a flash - but really couldn't provide the answer she was looking for. So we placed a call to the art dealer in Brazil who had supplied the picture.
But Carolyn seemed too upset to ask any relevant questions. This woman who seemed so confident and clever at the race has turned to jelly at the sight of that painting. My heart went out to her. There seemed no doubt that the only thing was to go to Belim.
I rang Kate just before our flight took off to let her know that I'd be in Brazil, and learned that Armand had grown worse in the night. She thanked me politely for my concern, but was a million miles away.
Wednesday, October 5
The art dealer was most suspicious, and unwilling to be of any help in finding this Da Silva who painted East of the Equator, and Carolyn seemed ready to turn around and fly back with discouragement when she saw a sculpture.
With certainty, she declared the self portrait, also by Da Silva, to be an image of her husband, over dinner declaring how desperately she wanted to pursue the matter. But realistically, we have nowhere to go from here.
Thursday, October 6
Woken up in the middle of the night by the art dealer who pronounced Carolyn to be crazy. But in his version of logic, that also meant that he was willing to provide Da Silva's address in Minaus.
We took the early morning flight here, but Da Silva was no longer at the address Klein gave me. The apartment manager was as uncooperative as the gallery owner, but cash showed he knew exactly where we could find the man.
Carolyn, sensing she might at last be coming face to face with her husband - and living with another woman too - became very tense.
But Da Silva was not Jeffrey Willins. Despite this, Carolyn's distress seemed to heighten, and she was desperate to leave Brazil immediately.
I'd noted there was no sign of artists' materials around Da Silva's small room, but with Carolyn so anxious to get out of there, it seemed just as well not to pursue the matter.
She booked a flight to New York for the morning, and I found out that what she really wanted was not to find her husband alive, but to dispel the possibility that he might still be - meaning that he had left her.
Felt we'd come too far to leave this burning question in her mind, and thought Da Silva should be probed some more. Carolyn agreed, and decided to accept whatever fate brought at the end of the journey.
When I accosted Da Silva outside his place, he admitted not being a painter, but rather a metallurgical engineer who'd bought the pictures while prospecting in the jungle - but not from the artist, only at a trading post.
The lure of money turned Da Silva into a friendly man, and he will take us into the jungle tomorrow - if Carolyn wants.
in the Brazilian jungle
Friday - Sunday, October 7 - 9
Da Silva chartered a seaplane, and a boat to bring us to the trading post where he'd obtained the art works, also taking advantage of the flight we were paying for to do some prospecting along the river.
The breathtaking fauna and flora we saw were my reward for the effort made on Carolyn's behalf. To have been spared time to see these sights is something I will give thanks for each day I have to live.
For the sophisticated New Yorker Carolyn, however, this glorious and hypnotising place with a million things to offer had “nothing.” She sees everything through her bruised ego.
At the trading post, there was another of the primitives which had recently been brought in, and I found out the painting for which Carolyn had paid $1,200, and was sold to Klein for $100 had cost the trader $5.
He made us a simple map of the way to the settlement where the artist lived, and we found Jeffrey Willins just after nightfall.
Here was a man who believed himself to be hidden in the deepest and most obscure jungle - and yet, his wife had found him. I spoke with him briefly, and he identified himself with a native name that meant The Lonely Man, then dismissed me, offering his house for the night.
He talked privately then with Carolyn, but she conveyed little of what they'd said, only that he quoted Freud as stating civilization was based on guilt.
The only sign we saw of him in the morning was the manuscript he has been writing, with a note to take it to his lawyer.
Carolyn's melancholy was clear as we cruised back along the river to the trading post. I tried to comfort her, and say that she knew now that she was no longer married.
But she insisted that marriage was the proof of a woman's existence, and its failure was her failure - but for men, something not really wanted.
The ideas stayed in my head, and I wondered if the women in my life thought that way. It seemed the converse of how I would see them, but maybe …..
Having accepted the most dismal epitaph in the prime of life, Carolyn then began looking at the thick manuscript Jeffrey wanted published. She was entranced with the language, and I was surprised that she didn't realize it was a quotation from Thoreau's Walden.
Then I looked through the pages, and saw that he had written down the text of that magnificent book from memory. Not a word was original.
I told Carolyn that Jeffrey had lost his mind, and her tears began to fall with more understanding than she'd been capable of only moments before.
We stayed the night at the relatively comfortable settlement where the seaplane picked us up in the morning, and brought us back to Minaus.
Carolyn was mostly quiet, but somehow I think she is coming to terms with the misguided ideas she's been carrying with her so many years.
Minaus - Rio de Janeiro - en route to San Francisco
Monday, October 10
We've booked a flight to Rio, and on to New York where I'll see Carolyn home, and then get a flight to Paris.
She had a very cathartic conversation with me (meaning she did all the talking) last night, and I really think she is going to be all right.
However, Carolyn says she won't try on her own, and that is more good sense. Over our time together in Brazil she had become a less and less appealing person, and I was beginning to understand why her husband ran away.
But now I am again seeing the vital woman I met at the Grand Prix, and can only wish her the best of everything.
Notes & Comments:
Virtually the directing debut of actor Fernando Lamas - who always gave Run For Your Life so much punch in his performances as Ramon de Vega - this episode sparkles in many ways, not least of all in the special theme written by Pete Rugolo.
Hypnotic and succulent, it dominates East of the Equator, setting the tone immediately when it runs over opening credits focusing on the mysterious painting.
Just as much a study in psychology as an adventure in the Brazilian jungle, East of the Equator focuses on a character overcome by her belief in the nature of a woman's role, and a husband who supposedly freed himself of all convention.
This mix is what made people remember Run For Your Life as an outstanding series.
Jo Swerling Jr
Director of Photography
John L. Russell A.S.C.
Hilton A. Green
John McCartey &
Robert C. Bradfield
Robert R. Bertrand
Color by Technicolor
Editorial Dept. Head
Costumes by Grady Hunt
Assistant to Executive Producer
Paintings by Ben Roberts
Sculptured head by Leon Saulter
Carolyn is struck by East of the Equator
Henry Gower's opinion is inconclusive
Carolyn talks to the dealer in Brazil
Paul reads from Thoreau's Walden
Carolyn looks to Paul for understanding
Carolyn describes how her husband disappeared
Carolyn sees her husband's face in a sculpture
They find Da Silva gone from the address Klein gave
Carolyn tells Paul that she feels a failure
Paul induces Da Silva to admit the truth
After the sea plane, they take a boat up the river
Carolyn sees nothing in the magnificent landscape
Jeffrey Willins says that he is called The Lonely Person
Carolyn asks how she failed.
Jeff says that it was civilization that failed him
Jeff has disappeared, but left behind a manuscript
Carolyn talks about her beliefs on women in marriage
Carolyn begins reading the manuscript
Carolyn lets the pages fall into the river
Paul is looking at pictures in a New York art gallery with Carolyn Willins when she sees one which affects her deeply. They are able to learn little about the artist from the gallery owner, only that the painting, titled East of the Equator, came from a dealer in Brazil the previous week.
Carolyn buys the picture, and tells Paul that it looks as if it could have been painted by her late husband, so much so that she is rather traumatized.
She explains that she has never been sure that her husband is really dead, so Paul asks a friend of his who is an art expert to compare the new work with other paintings of Carolyn's husband.
The primitive art specialist carefully studies all the work of the amateur painter, and says that East of the Equator is very different from the earlier canvases of Jeffrey Willins, but they still might all have been painted by the same man.
They phone the dealer in Belim where the painting came from, but he says that the man who did the painting, Da Silva, is an artist who brings in pictures occasionally, and he doesn't know where the painter lives.
His description of the man is quite generalized, but could possibly be Carolyn's husband.
Carolyn feels confused and frustrated, and Paul's friend, having analysed everything carefully, says the the new work might just possibly have developed from the paintings on the walls.
As Carolyn sees Gower out of the apartment, Paul peruses the many bookshelves, and takes down a copy of Thoreau's Walden.
It turns out to be a favorite work of both Jeffrey Willins and of Paul who reads a line from the classic.
He then puts the book aside and walks over to Carolyn, quoting the rest of the passage from memory.
They look at one another meaningfully, and Carolyn puts her head against Paul's shoulder, and he holds her comfortingly for a moment.
He kisses her then, but as the embrace becomes more serious, Carolyn draws away abruptly.
Paul looks after her with concern. She apologizes and walks away, saying that she keeps trying to tell herself that her husband is dead.
But the proof is as uncertain as the connection between his old paintings and the new one from the gallery.
Her husband had gone out sailing when the weather forecast was for a bad storm, and was never seen again, nor his boat found.
“Just gone,” she concludes, near tears. Paul responds that it doesn't matter whether her husband is alive or dead, but whether she is.
Carolyn says miserably that she doesn't know what to do, but Paul goes to her decisively, and declares that he does. He tells her to start packing for a trip to Brazil.
They fly to Belém and meet the art dealer who sent the painting to New York. He is extremely suspicious of the couple. Caroline tells Klein that she believes the artist is her husband. The dealer is polite but not cooperative. Paul shows Carolyn the sculpture of a head, also credited to an artist named Da Silva, and she recognizes it immediately as her husband. The dealer wakes Paul in the middle of the night, and says that he thinks Carolyn might not be mentally stable, but that qualifies her as harmless, and therefore he has decided to give Paul the address of Da Silva in Manaus.
They fly to Manaus the next morning, and go to the address, but are told that Da Silva has moved on, but only when cash is produced is Paul given the name of a woman who knew him.
When they arrive at the location, Da Silva is there, but he is clearly not Jeffrey Willins.
But Paul is suspicious, and believes that the man they met did not paint the picture bought in New York.
Carolyn admits that she wants to find proof that her husband was lost at sea, and not that he left her. But something about this painting leaves her feeling that's exactly what he did, and she is reluctant to pursue the leads for fear they will prove that she was a failure at the thing which was most important to her in life - being a wife.
However, Paul encourages her to continue, saying that it's still worth trying to find Jeffrey, but Carolyn says that will mean facing up to facts. She nevertheless decides to accept fate, and Paul goes looking for the man they met calling himself Jorge Da Silva.
Paul accosts Da Silva in the street and asks him why he signed his name to pictures he didn't paint, and gets him to admit that he bought the paintings he signed. Da Silva tells Paul that he's heard that the artist lives way down the river with the Indians, and that he's never seen the man, having bought the pictures at the trading post. Paul asks if Da Silva could take them there, and learns that one must first go by sea plane and then by boat. They have extensive negotiations over the price, Da Silva first asking $5000. Paul turns him down, but Da Silva points out that he is the only person who can take Carolyn and Paul to the man who paints.
When they take off in the sea plane the next morning, Paul discovers that Da Silva lied about the availability of charter flights where they're going, and is even using the one they're on for his own metallurgical prospecting. Da Silva laughs off his trickery, and when they get to the trading post, Paul finds that he bought the primitive paintings for $5 and sold them for $100 (with the New York price ending up at $1,200).
The trader shows them the last painting from the man, explaining that the artist exchanged his pictures for paper that would not disintegrate, as he is writing a book.
Carolyn walks away from the gentlemen discussing the paintings.
Looking out at the glorious landscape, Carolyn declares, “there's nothing here. Nothing!” She can only think about her husband rejecting her for a place where she finds no allure. But the reason she sees nothing in it is just to flail her bruised ego.
“There's room here,” replies Paul. “There's more room here than anyplace on earth.”
“No one would come here unless he were desperate,” Carolyn counters.
They then go on foot until they come to a man writing by a campfire. “Jeffrey Willins?” Paul asks, and without looking up, the man answers, “my name here is Tangunla Tangelo Ungunla,” and he translates this to mean “the lonely person,” or one who has no father and no mother either. Then he looks up at his wife and greets her with a casual hello. He speaks of the natives, how they've withdrawn on arrival of the strangers. After a few more exchanges, he tells Paul that he and Da Silva can have his house for the night, and that they may go there now so that he can speak to his wife in private. Carolyn sits down beside him.
“How did I fail you, Jeff?” are Carolyn's first words to him, but he says that he never blamed her, and left guilt behind him with civilization.
“What about my guilt?” Carolyn asks, and Jeff replies, that never occurred to him. He apologizes, and she responds that he made her feel like a leper.
Carolyn speaks of having reached out to touch him, but that he wouldn't even look at her, and Jeff responds that he wanted to touch her when she was sleeping, but the walls grew higher every day.
He says that he began reading books on psychiatry, and found everything in Freud's essay on civilization and its discontents.
Jeff tells Carolyn that the thing that makes civilizations work is guilt, that human energy is drained and turned into guilt. He says that he came to this place to escape civilization, and when Carolyn responds that he left her, he says that he left everything, and she was just part of everything.
When she asks again how she failed, he answers once more that it was civilization that failed him.
After saying that he has been very happy in this environment, he tells Carolyn that his book about tranquility and the primitive life is almost done now,
Carolyn gets up and leaves Jeff alone writing by the fire.
In the morning he has disappeared, but Da Silva finds a note and stack of papers he's left for Paul, stating that the pages should be handed over to his law firm which should have no trouble finding a publisher for the manuscript, and that this leaves him quits with civilization.
From a distance Jeffrey watches the party board their boat.
Paul tells Carolyn that she is no longer married, and she replies that men don't really want or need marriage, but that marriage is the proof of a woman, and that every marriage that endures - good or bad - represents the work and the will of a good woman, and every one that falls apart is a woman's failure.
“Are you going to waste your life on that proposition?” Paul asks her, but Carolyn replies that she has no choice.
As their boat takes them back up river to the trading post, Carolyn begins to look at her husband's writing. “I can't tell you how beautiful this is,” she tells Paul emotionally, and starts reading aloud from it. She quotes a paragraph or two, and then Paul takes up a phrase in mid-sentence and begins speaking the words of the text - not from the page, but from memory. Then he stops and says, “it's Thoreau's Walden.” He looks through the sheaf of papers from the top to the end. “Every word of it,” he says, “he must have remembered it word for word, and put it down from memory, thinking it was all his.”
The reality hits them all, and Paul adds, “Carolyn, he's insane.”
As Carolyn takes the manuscript back, Paul assures that she will be all right now, and able to begin life again.
Tears start to fall, but Carolyn says that they are for her husband.
She then begins taking the pages of the manuscript, and one by one, letting each fall into the water and float downstream.