A few weeks ago, I got tickets to see Scarface at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Right next to Paramount Studios, Hollywood Forever is the final resting place for lots of famous people who built Hollywood and whose names we kind of recognize. During the summer, they project films onto the wall of one of the buildings for a crowd of 3,000 drunk and unruly individuals. Seriously. It’s like a gathering of the worst people in the world.
I made Adam and Hassan go to this because a) it was Scarface b) we live in LA and never do any local stuff and c) it was Scarface. Young Pacino is really hot. The only other time I’d been was last year with my friend Rachel to see Edward Scissorhands. Either it wasn’t nearly as awful last year, or the body not remembering pain extends to emotional pain as well. Because this was bad.
We got there over an hour before the film started, mostly because I didn’t look at the time on the tickets. There isn’t any reserved seating, so everyone brings their camping chairs and blankets and stakes out their little plot on the lawn. Pun intended. (There are several cemetery puns buried in this post. That was another one. I am not ashamed.) We picked a spot next to Arthur Jay Waters (1871-1923) and Charlotte Miller Waters (1877-1928). It also happened to be next to the handicapped section, which was outlined in bright orange tape, and manned by what appeared to be a 12-year-old boy.
The boy was attempting to inform the never-ending procession of idiots trying to sit there that it was for handicapped individuals and their guests only. Adam pointed out that a sign could have gone a long way to helping the kid out. As we sat there, we witnessed the worst people in the world being awful. Kid: I’m sorry, this is the handicapped section. You can’t sit here. Awful Person: Well, what constitutes handicapped? Other Awful Person: My friend’s a cripple. (points at friend who rolled his ankle playing basketball) Even More Awful Person: Are you kidding me? They don’t need all this room. Right before the film started, the kid lost his hard-fought battle against idiocy and the section was flooded by lazy people and those who came late. RIP, kid. You did what you could.
Then the film started.
Which was difficult to tell, actually, because no one stopped talking. The couple behind us, clearly on a first date, continued sharing their life stories with one another. At full volume. Aided by liquor. ( I hope they genuinely liked each other, because I highly doubt they were making good choices by the end of the 3-hour film.)
A man in front of us, sitting in the handicapped section with his very pregnant wife/girlfriend/date, kept taking pictures of the screen. On his iPhone. By holding his arms straight in the air above his head, thus blocking our view of the screen and making him look like he was calling a touchdown for Pacino. Or dancing to YMCA. It was obnoxious. Especially because we could see what he was getting a picture of. A dark screen on a dark night, without even zooming in. Hassan decided there must exist a Facebook album that consists solely of blurry, dark, far away shots from that night.
At one point, the kids next to us (who seemed to be healthy, able-bodied boys in the handicapped section) asked us for a lighter. When we said no, they kept asking everyone around us until they found one. At which point, they lit up a joint. Come to think of it, maybe they were in the handicapped section due to cataracts?
By the second hour, the aggressive picture-taking had me at my breaking point. Adam just kept drinking beers and muttering about hating people. Hassan quietly glared at the man.
Adam: It’s a good thing that man’s taking pictures. I bet there are no pictures anywhere on the internet of any of the scenes in Scarface.
Hassan: I will buy that man the DVD if he just stops. Just stop.
Random woman next to us: I have some pita chips you can throw at him.
Me: NO ONE CAN SEE WHEN YOU DO THAT.
Man with Camera: Just a second.
No, seriously. He told me just a second and kept taking the picture. Then took more. It was amazing. Soon after, he got up to escort his wife to the bathroom. We enjoyed 15 blissful minutes in which we could see the screen, almost hear the dialogue, and unsuccessfully try to decipher what was happening in the film. We finally decided we should probably just leave and beat the traffic. Actually, Adam mostly decided. He won me over by saying “We can watch Scarface at home, whenever you want. Just please, can we leave?”
As fate would have it, we waited just long enough for picture man to return from the bathroom. He helped his wife/girlfriend/date into her chair, then proceeded to clumsily fall into his own chair, flipping it over and dumping him out onto the grass. On his head. I cannot remember the last time I laughed that hard. We had to run away to the car, because we could not stop laughing, and, you know, people were trying to watch a movie.
As we fled, Hassan snapped a picture of the guy flailing around on the ground (see above). As he noted, IT LOOKS LIKE EVERY PICTURE THAT MAN TOOK THAT NIGHT. For those of you who are on Facebook, feel free to tag it Worst Person in the World and add it to the Blurry Dark Far Away Shots of Scarface Album.