By Ezra
Went to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery ("Resting Place of Hollywood's Immortals!") last night for their Movie on the Mausoleum. It's one of the weirder LA events I've been to: 600 attractive young folk, about 80% of them hipsters, tromping through graves and between tiki candles to set up blankets and picnics in the spaces not occupied by plaques. A DJ spins creepy (but very good) house music while old movie posters flicker on the walls. At 9PM, everyone breaks out the alcohol, Hitchcock comes on screen, and the move begins. Last night was Perfect Strangers.
Hollywood Forever, for those who don't know, is a cemetery for the lions and lionesses of the entertainment industry. Think Arlington National, but instead of JFK, you have Cecil B. DeMille. And instead of resting in peace, the expired celebs are still public attractions: people tour the cemetery, watch movies on the lawn, make pilgrimages to see their favorite stars. The men and women buried there lived in the public eye and, now, lay dead in it. And every Saturday night, a movie plays in which more than a few of them starred, a couple hundred young industry wannabes stream into their resting place loaded down with sandwiches and cheap wine, and everybody has a grand old time.
Odd, yes, but somehow fitting.
