Despite the grandeur of its funereal appetites, Hollywood is always graceless and uneasy inside its mourning clothes. Its undertakers are suntanned. Its dead lie listening to Muzak in poets' nooks. Its grief requires CinemaScopeĀso big, so awful, so thrilled with guilt. When Marilyn Monroe was buried last week in Los Angeles, Hollywood's heavy embrace was forcefully restrained, but there was little mercy in its absence. Here and there, film stars nudged past the line of true mourners to bear their terrible tributes into print. At the mortuary, Marilyn's coiffeur set her bone-white...
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