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THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS OF HOLLYWOOD
"There you are," he said kindly, "that's what I mean. The young are so cynical."
The dog leaped out of his arms, ran towards me. After a brief investigation he decided against licking my face, obviously agreeing with his master's estimation of me as a cynical young man — not the sort of guest who responds kindly to having his face licked.
Robinson's statement about the bliss of being old was apt. At sixty-three he had just scored the biggest triumph of the Broadway season in a play by Paddy Ghayefsky, Middle of the Night. After twenty-five years' absence from Broadway and successful skulduggery in movies, he had returned to the stage in a play which the middle-aged American male took straight to his tired, fatty old heart. He had converted the sugardaddy from a figure of fun into a man of stature and pathos. He was nightly illustrating that the American maxim "enjoy it now and pay later" is applicable also to the business of love.
The story in which Robinson was playing was about an elderly garment manufacturer who loves (and is loved by) a girl of twenty-five. Despite the neurotic opposition of both their families, they decide to marry. The implication of the play is that old age is merely another burden which a little American know-how and optimism can easily lighten.
Author Ghayefsky, aged thirty-three, has written a brilliant manifesto proclaiming the grandfathers' right to self-determination — and love.
As the story of a particular man in a particular situation, Middle of the Night is a superb piece of reportage. But it was much more than that to the audiences who packed the theatre every night. To many tired old gentlemen it was a rejuvenating treatment. The young, says Chayefsky, do not possess the exclusive rights to love ; and the middleaged and old gladly concurred with that view.
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