In The Imagineering Story, a six part documentary on Disney+, someone says that Disneyland makes you feel young, because it’s like you remember, but it makes you feel better about getting older, because it’s gotten better with age. It’s got new attractions, new features, new cool stuff. And that dichotomy is in the service of making you feel like it’s going to be all right, that this is a step out of the real world and into the best world.
I suppose it’s no wonder that I thought of Disney parks as I was in London at this time last year. That was also a trip into a different reality, complete with rides and attractions and posh themed sleeping arrangements. And this year, a quick park jaunt took care of multiple things: birthday celebration, family obligation, flex of my own independence, the beginning of a badly needed month off. After having hit the park four times since the Covid restrictions were lifted, I have thoughts.
I absolutely agree about the aging. The two foundational experiences of Disney for me were 1989 and 2011. The first time, I was with friends, on property at the Contemporary, no grown-ups, in a world of endless possibility. And in 2011, I was doing the same thing, with different friends, in an all new hotel and park at California Adventure, and reliving an experience I didn’t think I could have again. And there’s a little of that in every visit – most notably in 2019, the opening week of Galaxy’s Edge, staying at the Disneyland Hotel for the first time and experiencing Black Spire Outpost for the first time, but there’s always that frisson of “I have escaped.”
If I’m the head of Disney Parks, the thing that keeps me up at night is that six of my twelve parks are now in places where I’m in partnership with an unreliable and totalitarian government, and China or Florida could screw me at any moment. Japan and Paris seem to be mostly all right, I guess, and then there’s Anaheim. Where the problem is…there’s nowhere left to go. You’re out of space, and they aren’t making any more Orange County. Which to me brings up the biggest question of them all…what are we gonna do about Tomorrowland?
See, in Florida, you at least have space to add a TRON Lightcycles. In Anaheim, your only hope is to retheme something, to change Tower of Terror to a Marvel ride or shrink Bugs Land down for Avengers Campus or turn Splash Mountain into Princess and the Frog and never mind where the mountain fits in a Louisiana swamp. And Tomorrowland is a giant field of two-cycle lawnmower engines surrounding huge blocks of asbestos. Look, I know it’s an original attraction, but Autopia has to go, because the juice ain’t worth the squeeze any more. And then there’s the existing show boxes, which have been turned into…what? Astro Blasters, which is better as Midway Mania across the plaza? An exhibition hall? What the Hell is in Captain EO’s old space now?
If I’m head of Imagineering, my entire legacy right now rests on finding some way to gracefully wind up an area that’s as dated and out of touch with reality as Frontierland and come up with a way of fitting something that matches the original aspiration into the available space without causing a billion dollars of environmental remediation. It is honestly an impossible challenge, but that’s what you go into Imagineering for, isn’t it?
Meanwhile, the number one attraction for me won’t open for another ten years at least. But California High Speed Rail, and a cheaper alternative to flying down and faster alternative to driving or Amtrak, would mean that it would be easier to get the Magic Key and then spend the morning at the park, the afternoon working from the hotel and the evening soaking up the vibes. Because I’ve reached a point where the park itself is the immersive attraction. Just being there is the sort of thing that we’ve had our fill of by day three, and yet after being home four days, we’re thinking about the next visit.
There’s something there. I just need to figure out how much of it I can replicate here.