Cemetery Movie Night

I saw Katherine Hepburn a couple nights ago. It was dark, not far from her gravesite. But no ghost appeared, just a Hollywood ectoplasm on an inflatable screen. Welcome to movie night at Hartford, Connecticut’s Cedar Hill Cemetery.

Part drive-in theater, part ersatz séance, watching a classic black-and-white film in a cemetery might be a little creepy if it weren’t such fun. Realizing no one on the screen is still among the living makes it seem oddly appropriate. But when the star of the flick is interred a loud shout away, it evokes a stunning presence you won’t find elsewhere.

Arriving near dusk, I joined a few score others setting up folding chairs on a gently sloping lawn between two large masonry mausoleums. Some of the gathered relaxed and enjoyed picnic dinners or a pizza that they’d brought. With the screen against a shadowy background of mature trees, the peachy light of sunset seemed amplified. The theater atmosphere was perfected by a portable popcorn machine whose alluring scent wafted over the gathering and made the offer of a free bag irresistible.

We watched Without Love, one of Hepburn’s classics with Spencer Tracy, a romantic comedy about marriage without romance. In other years I’ve seen Stage Door where she stars with Ginger Rogers, and Pat and Mike, also with Tracy. The films are a bit formulaic and often full of stereotypes, artifacts of their era. But Hepburn’s performance always reaches beyond time with her confident movements, snappy dialogue, and voice that vibrates like an iron string.

Beginning in the gloaming, the projection was a bit washed out at first. But soon stars appeared above and those on the screen became vivid. An almost full moon arced through the trees. A plane flew overhead and a couple times sirens echoed from surrounding streets. Still, the soundtrack around us was mostly the rhythmic call of cicadas. Behind us and just across a narrow road the dead slept soundly below columns, obelisks and other memorials, some topped with angels.

How intriguing to be in a city of the dead while on film the dead imitated life, if only in shades of gray and two dimensions. On screen was a past that depicted a world that some of the permanent residents here would no doubt remember. Did the spirit of Katherine Hepburn resonate around us? There was a mischievous irreverence to watching the late great actress performing in this place. I have little doubt that it would delight her. But, for those of us sitting on the cemetery lawn that evening these Hollywood images were as close to a specter as we would get.