Most people characterize spring as a time of re-birth, of new beginnings. The snows have melted, the brooks are bubbling, baby lambs are rolling around in the grass … a sense of optimism, happiness even, is in the air.
I don’t share this sentiment. Because along with optimism in the air, there are also pollens blowing about, making my eyes itch and nose drip and throat clog in complete misery. Because along with happiness, there is also a sense of foreboding that comes with graduation and trolling the “et cetera” jobs section of Craigslist at 3 a.m. And as F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said, “In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o’ clock in the morning, day after day.” I can personally attest to the validity of this statement, and my soul is sleep-deprived.
To make matters worse, a lot of the good shows on television are on summer hiatus. What am I supposed to do now? Read a book? Spring just isn’t my jam, and it never has been. Most of the TV shows that I follow, as horrible and mindless and ultimately soul-crushing as they may be, lend a certain amount of stability to my life. And in a time where both my sinuses and post-grad morale are on shakier ground than normal, I need to look forward to something to tune into. The personalities of Liz Lemon and Chuck Bass can’t be so easily replaced.
But in the spirit of spring, I decided to give Lemon-less happiness the old college try. My way to endure the pain, despite the fact that it includes rolling around in the very grass that provokes my hay fever, is through Cinespia.
Cinespia is an organization that screens classic films inside the famed Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Sandwiched between the old Paramount lot on Santa Monica Boulevard and Melrose Avenue, the Cemetery is beautiful in itself with the skinny palm trees and vistas of the Hollywood Hills. It has just the right amount of creepiness to make the atmosphere even more awesome and the experience of hanging out here for a few hours even richer. Hollywood Forever houses hundreds of eerie Russian tombstones, the bodies of two Ramones, one Rudolph Valentino and Jayne Mansfield, and it’s a registered historic landmark.
It’s cinema alfresco. People bring picnics, and alcohol is allowed. Some moviegoers really go all out with their setups, bringing along chic portable tables, candles and fancy place settings. Personally, I think you’re fine with just Trader Joe’s bags, but the aesthetic is appreciated and, as usual for Los Angeles, makes for some excellent and snide people-watching.
I went to a Cinespia screening for the first time this weekend to see one of my favorite movies, Alfred Hitchcock’s “North by Northwest.” It’s always fun to see an old movie on ye olde silver screen, but when it’s a near-perfect classic like this one, it ups the gravitas factor.
As much as Sunday night viewings of “Pretty Wild” brought my roommates and friends together, it doesn’t hold a candle to the bond I felt at Hollywood Forever that night. That’s not to say that we were all holding hands and pouring wine into each other’s mouths. But the crowd was so diverse, so mellow and just genuinely into chilling outside watching an awesome movie. Unlike a music festival, it’s not a crazed, superficial scene, but a solid niche of movie lovers, and I’m sure each screening attracts a different type of crowd within that.
The night at Hollywood Forever was magical. Seeing the full moon rise in real life behind the scene of Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint scaling Mount Rushmore, with a tub of hummus resting beside me, was a special moment. I love the history and iconography of Old Hollywood, and witnessing a product of it while literally being inside of it felt really cool. If I could go to Cinespia three times a week all year round, I think I’d be OK with parting ways with the cast of “Gossip Girl” forever.
On Saturday night, another favorite of mine, “Casablanca,” is playing, and I would highly recommend to my four readers out there that you go see it. If you want a companion, shoot me an e-mail, as long as you don’t mind dealing with sniffles, provoked both by Bogie’s famous one-liner and a high pollen count.
If you’d endure hay fever for a Hitchcock film, too, e-mail McReynolds at dmcreynolds@media.ucla.edu.