Walt Disney’s land of fantasy and wonder

Press, Volume CXIII, Issue 33189, 31 March 1973, Page 11

Walt Disney’s land of fantasy and wonder

(By

A. J. PETRE)

Of all the inhabitants of the Los Angeles area, including the film stars, there is probably no-one more widely known and loved than one who hails from the suburb of Anaheim. His name is Mickey Mouse. Since 1955. Mickey has resided at Disneyland, where his daily appearances never fail to bring young and old at the run, cameras and arms outstretched. Unlike the scene so often seen m stores at Christmas time, when Santa, that paragon of jollity, is nonetheless approached with the utmost diffidence by many youngsters. children at Disneyland show not a moment’s hesitation in running to Mickey Mouse and his fellow characters and shaking hands, or flinging their arms around them. Somehow the sight of a sparkling-eyed youngster whispering in the ear of Goofy or Winnie the Pooh, while the character kneels beside them, can bring a lump to the throat of even the case-hardened. And that is the charm of Disneyland. World of fantasy Over the entrance is a plaque which reads: “Here you leave the world of today, and enter the world of tomorrow. yesterday and fantasy.” That, whether they have approached with a healthy cynicism or not. is what young and old invariably seem to do. When a party of New Zealand journalists, in Los Angeles for the Air New Zealand DC 10 delivery flight, visited Disneyland, one editor of no mean experience said, almost religiously: “I’ll never describe anything as ‘Mickey Mouse’ again.” It was a considerable tribute. To really see Disneyland properly takes about two days. One is left with a welter of impressions, including the brilliance of the concept —both as unrivalled entertainment and as a commercial venture—and the remarkable cleanliness of the entire complex. The reason for the latter is not hard to find. The entire area is surfaced in a smooth concrete, apparently treated or mixed with a green or pink-coloured plastic material. Rubbish containers abound,' and so do dozens of young men who are constantly on the move with brooms and dustpans. Should one drop a cigarette butt — and it is impossible to do so without a feeling-of guilt — it is swept away in less than a minute. There are always a few attractions which are closed for refurbishing, and refurbishing also takes place on an intensive scale on Mondays and Tuesdays, when Disneyland is closed to the public. Nowhere in Disneyland will you see peeling paint or stained stonework; in fact, none of the paintwork appears to be more than a few days old. . , Boats and trains Although there are a vast number of attractions, they are in a relatively compact area, divided up and apparently enlarged by the skilful use of landscaping and’ design. This, plus the almost universal use of “rides”—in boats, gondolas, trains, and small cabins on wheels—and moving rubber-belt walkways, makes Disneyland one of the least tiring "fairgrounds” to see in the world. The layout is such that even young children could be left to roam at will. The enterprise is run with remarkable efficiency, and obvious commercial enterprise, but nonetheless manages to escape the atmosphere of commercialism. In’ part, this is because of the friendliness of the attendants. and because virtually none of the attractions accept money. At the gate, one buys a book of tickets—s3.so is the average cost. Each book contains several “A.” “B,” “C” and “D” tickets, all a different colour, and labelled with the names of the attractions to which they apply. One merely hands over the appropriate classification of ticket to the attendant when entering the door of-any particular attraction. The problems of giving change and cash security are thus avoided. In each “land” —Frontierland, Adventureland. Fantasyland and Tomorrewland — there are numerous eating places, ranging from hamburger and hot-dog stands to plush restaurants. These, and the numerous contemporary shops, bazaars and stalls which abound in every land certainly do take money. The shops sell an enormous range of goods, from the usual souvenirs and trinkets, to film, clothing, books, jewellery, toys, crockerv. glassware. watches, and irnaments of all descripAnd if you have forgotten bring a camera, there is a drop on “Main Street” which will hire either a still or movie camera. The shops and restaurants undoubtedly make Disneyland a vast sum.

Then there are the attractions. For the first few hours, it is attraction enough to wander the streets. But then there are numerous attractions which are free, such as the audience-encircling “Circlevision 360” theatre, with eight screens, which shows an impressive film “America the Beautiful.” Surrounded by sight and sound, the audience is rightly reminded to hold on to the rails inside: if not, one could be sufficiently disoriented to fall over. There is an old-time cinema showing silent films —a changing programme—an oldfashioned penny arcade, a large shop devoted just to candles, hat shops, a chande-lier-lit Victorian dining-room restaurant, a Polynesian restaurant, and a clock shop. The “ticket” attractions show Disney’s business acumen: many are sponsored by large firms (General Electric’s city of tomorrow, McDonnell Douglas’s flight to the moon), Disneyland puts them up and animates the characters, and charges admission through the ticket system.

Against this, there is the relative cheapness of all the attractions, the cost of the whole complex, and what must be a phenomenal cost in maintenance and upkeep. Disneyland abounds in perfectly kept gardens, and the gardening bill alone must be enormous. There are as many attractions for adults as for children, and maybe more. All are so excellent, and so hard to fault that it is difficult to pick favourites, but undoubtedly the “Pirates of the Caribbean” are a must for any Disneyland visitor. Down the main street, with its horsedrawn tram and vintage double-decker bus, always well filled with visitors, past restaurants and shops to the lake where the paddle steamer Mark Twain plies through Frontierland, ard one reaches New Orleans Square. Pirates and victims There one enters an apparently ordinary southernstyle Colonial house —to arrive at an old wooden dock, nast which flows a stream bearing the 20-passenger skiff for your journey. Your boat enters a bayou, at night, and fireflies dance in the shadows, swamp animals squeak and twitter, and the stars shine in the dark blue sky above. Other patrons dine at an old-time restaurant on the banks—a building within a building. With a swoosh the stream and the boat dive underground, and there follows 10 minutes of fascination and excitement which cannot be described. You sail past pirates looting a burning town, between a large galleon and the fortress it is bombarding as cannons roar and waterspouts erupt around your skiff. Everywhere, pirates and their victims are shouting, dancing, singing, drinking, running, shooting, looting and burning. The Disneyland name, for it is “audioanimatronics” — sound and incredibly realistic animation of dummy humans and animals through electronics and computers. The “pirates” are said to be the costliest and most technologically sophisticated adventure ever conceived as an

entertainment. There is no reason to doubt it. There are other atttractions which must not be missed. Also in New Orleans Square is the Haunted Mansion: another incredibly complex entertainment in man-made underground caverns. It has been modified since it was built: many visitors found it too realistically frightening. A voyage through the American frontier on the Mark Twain is another must, so is a visit to “It’s a small world,” where the people and children of all nations (including New Zealand) sing and dance: animated, of course. Moon flights In the moon flight building, “passengers” are first led past a realistic moon-flight control room, staffed with engineers busily turning knobs, flicking switches and reading dials and screens. Not until the chief engineer stands up to describe the operations does one realise that all the “men” are animated dummies. Nine colour television screens show the launch-pad scene, an orbiting observation satellite and what it sees: all controlled by computers. Inside the rocket, (“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the hostess, “your flight is now ready to depart,”) one sits in aircraft-style seats around the walls. A huge screen in the floor shows the scene beneath the rocket, one above shows the way ahead. The airlocks slam, and as the rocket lifts off in a maelstrom of flame from the engine, the entire structure shakes and quivers, and the seats—with their occupants —sink down under the Gforces. Out of the atmosphere, the seats rise up again to simulate weightlessness ... In the General Electric exhibit, the huge auditorium and its hundreds of spectators move around the fixed, four-sided stage. At each stage the auditorium stops, as families from the early 1900 s on, in their contemporarily equipped rooms, talk of the wonders of the current advances in electrical technology and domestic appliances. Ovens and ice-boxes open themselves, the dog blinks, wags its tail, and barks, the vacuum cleaner motors its way across the floor—all animated, all worked electronically. At each quarter turn, people file from one segment of the auditorium, and others file into another. Leaving, one passes a giant working model of an all-electric city of the future. In the Tiki Room, hundreds of parrots and tropical birds talk, sing, move, and — in every case — breathe with gently heaving chests. All are animated. Happy atmosphere Indoor fountains play, tropical flowers start moving and singing, and even the carvings on the walls move, blink, beat drums and sing. You wonder what is going to start talking to you next. Every attraction-is marvellously. fascinatingly and animatedly different, from the cruise through the African jungle to the country bears’ jamboree.

The Swiss family Robinson’s tree-house is a marvel-

lous structure, built up and inside a great, sprawling tree. Once one is within a few feet, one realises the tree is a fake, with amazingly realistic concrete trunk, and millions of plastic leaves. The sight of visitors tapping on trees to see if they are real is not a rare one in Disneyland. There are rides everywhere. In boats, on rafts, in l trains, on horses, in teacups, in gondolas, on the monorail which runs to the 1000-bed Disneyland Hotel, with its “water world,” marina, lake, trout, 1800-jet fountain (imported) sand beach, and 60 acres of grounds. But always, in Disneyland and its dozens of attractions, is the relaxed and happy atmosphere that is so unique. Thousands of children—particularly at the week-end — and yet not a tired, snivelling youngster in sight. Snow White’s dwarfs, Disney’s animals, wandering everywhere. Old-time popcorn stands, their attendants in costume. Restaurants, even in Captain Hook’s galleon. Balloon sellers. Real hotdogs. Disneyland’s motto of “The happiest, place on earth” is less of a boast than one might think. Walt Disney said he felt there should be a family park, where both parents and children could have fun together. That was why, in 1954, he started turning the Anaheim orange groves into what they are today. The idea has been growing for 20 years, and it still is—not only in Los Angeles, but also in Florida where a huge “Walt Disney World” is taking shape. Design and construction was a mammoth task. Everything was one of a kind, from the castles and caves to the 14-storey high Matterhorn Mountain, built of concrete and 500 tons of steel. Through it, runs a bob-sleigh ride (it ‘splashes down’ in the lake) and gondolas. The effort was worth it. Perhaps three days would be a more sensible time to set aside for Disneyland.