Let me tell you, a lot of us were worried we were never going to get
our theatre back.
After
a rocky start in the Eighties as Videopolis (mild-mannered
performance venue by day—New Wave dance club by night!), the
amphitheater across the way from “it's a small world” had settled
well into being the Fantasyland Theatre. It was a perfect fixture to
host musical shows inspired by Disney's animated movies (and
sometimes network TV series) and suck some of those crowds off the
walkways for around 25 minutes at a time. And some of those shows
were great.
Anyone else remember Animazement? The one from 1998 that was
basically a love letter to the Disney Renaissance up until that
point? Or how about the Snow White musical with the Magic Mirror as
narrator?
But
then 2006 arrived, and with it the “Year of a Million Dreams”
promotion (which wound up lasting more like 2.5 years). The talking
heads in charge reasoned that the #1 dream for little girls at
Disneyland is being a princess, so the Fantasyland Theatre was
revamped into the Princess Fantasy Faire. It should be noted that
this was the first time the Disney Princess franchise had been
promoted via an attraction
(as opposed to a shop) since the brand was launched in 2000. It
wasn't inherently terrible—there was a lot for kids to do there,
and there was a cute little show attached in the form of the “Royal
Coronation Ceremony”—but when the YoaMD ended, taking the
Ceremony with it...the Princess Fantasy Faire stayed. Long-time fans
of the park found this...let's be diplomatic and say suboptimal.
As part of a temporary promotion that was all about making your
dreams come true for a day, the Princess Fantasy Faire was all right.
As a permanent attraction replacing
the theatre, it was a lot less lovable.
Fortunately, wisdom prevailed. In 2013, an underutilized patch of
land off the Plaza Hub was converted into a permanent Fantasy Faire,
and the Princess offerings moved there. The Fantasyland Theatre was
free to reclaim its name and re-open with a new show: "Mickey and the
Magical Map."
On
the surface, the show is nothing to write home about. The plot—Mickey
as the Sorcerer's Apprentice attempting to fill in the (bizarrely
sentient) last blank spot on the eponymous map—is really just an
excuse to stage performance numbers based around songs from
well-known animated Disney films. Each time Mickey approaches the
Spot, it distracts him by triggering one of the cardinal points on
the map's compass, causing him to be whisked away to the location
indicated, where characters emerge from the set to sing and dance. It
takes several of these before it dawns on Mickey that the Spot isn't
playing with him—it's legit running away because it's supposed
to be blank. Having learned this lesson, Mickey is promoted to
Mapmaker by the Sorcerer.
It's
honestly Sesame
Street-level
stuff, and most of the time when I watch it, the audience is
predominantly families with young children. I think it's safe to say
it hasn't caught on very well with general audiences. Among the
complaints I've heard from people close to my age and older are that
it doesn't draw enough from classic
Disney (all of the song sequences but one come from the Disney
Renaissance period or later) and that the original theme written for
the show is too contemporary-sounding. I really don't get that second
one. Pretty much all Disney songs are written in a style popular for
their time; the ones from Cinderella
and so forth only seem “timeless” because they've remained
popular for decades, and that's more a function of the overall
movie's endurance than that of the songs specifically. But I digress.
The long and the short of it is that “Mickey and the Magical Map”
offers a lot of spectacle, but no real substance.
I find it ridiculously affecting.
I'm
not much for crying at entertainment. It's a very rare movie that
will get me going in that way. (I'm looking at you, Toy
Story 3.)
But “Magical Map” gets me misty-eyed every. Single. Time.
Somewhere in all the corn and flashy special effects is something
that grabs me by the feels and won't let go until the confetti
cannons launch.
Well...I say “something,” but I actually know exactly what it is.
And it's all tied up with the Magical Map itself.
The map appears more conceptual than geographical. It includes
suggestions of landforms and waterways, but mostly consists of little
sketches of fabulous places—castles and forest groves and islands
and treehouses. A few recognizable characters and items from Disney's
canon of animated films make appearances—Jiminy Cricket,
Cinderella's coach, the Cave of Wonders. These drawings are neatly
laid out and evenly spaced, but there isn't a great deal of logic to
their arrangement and they don't bear much relation to each other.
In
other words, it doesn't represent the layout of a physical location
or region, but more the general idea
of exotic places where adventure lies. It's a mental landscape. A
realm of imagination, perhaps? Our combined memories of Disney
movies? No, scratch that last one—if it were just that, you'd
expect to see place-names like Wonderland and Neverland. But instead
we get twee little labels like “Friendship Woods” and “Dreamer
Village.” Theme park marketing buzzwords. Could it be...?
Okay,
I'll stop dragging it out. The Magical Map represents Disneyland
itself. Or, in keeping with the “mental landscape” thing, the
experience
of visiting Disneyland. Everywhere Mickey turns (the compass points),
he is magically transported to a new environment—a jungle, an
Indian village, an undersea kingdom—where he is surrounded by music
and color. The clincher is this choice quote from Yensid near the end
of the show:
“The
map contains neverending magic, for it will never be complete. Not as
long as there is imagination in the world.”
Which
is of course exactly what Walt Disney said about his park. Every
Disneyland fan knows that one. But, crucially, not every Disney
fan is necessarily familiar with that quote. The people who think the
important stuff in the park is all movie-related—who shell out for
Character Breakfasts and Princess makeovers and happily stand in line
for hours to meet Elsa or Captain America and didn't think much of
Pirates of the Caribbean before they added Jack Sparrow to it and
have never so much as set foot inside the Enchanted Tiki Room because
no one they recognize is on the sign—those people will completely
miss the significance of this line in a show they only sat down to
watch because their feet were tired and hey, who doesn't like Mickey
Mouse? Or in less long-winded terms, the line functions as a
shibboleth
for people like me who love Disneyland for itself, and not just as a
delivery system for movie recaps.
And dangit if that don't just give me the warm fuzzies. We don't
normally get this kind of “Isn't this park you're in, right here,
awesome in itself?” message outside of a major anniversary. In an
era where the decision-makers seem hellbent on packing Disneyland
with more and more movie tie-ins, at the expense of its unique
elements, it's nice to know we haven't been entirely forgotten.
There's
lots else to appreciate about “Magical Map,” of course. My inner
Social Justice Warrior nods with approval at the diversity of the
casting* and the fact that the obligatory Princess segment is a
medley of songs about self-discovery, not romance. (Well, one of them
is a romantic song. But it's also
a self-discovery song.) The sets and props demonstrate the same sort
of design sensibilities as the floats and costumes in Mickey's
Soundsational! Parade—artists' paintbrushes become tropical palm
trees and dancers wave parasols splattered with paint. Others may
decry the pop style of the show's original song, but I find it
perfectly in keeping with the themes presented in the show itself,
not to mention catchy as hell. Even if you're not as devoutly in love
with Disneyland as I am, “Mickey and the Magical Map” is a fine
tribute to art and imagination as expressed through memorable songs
from a variety of well-received films.
Check
it out!
*
The human Disney characters featured in the show are Yensid
(Fantasia),
Pocahontas, Mulan, Rapunzel and Flynn (Tangled),
and Tiana (The
Princess and the Frog).
Other show segments don't include any human characters but use songs
from The Jungle
Book,
The Little
Mermaid,
and Lilo and
Stitch,
with implied or outright stated settings of India, the Caribbean, and
Hawaii. That's not a bad cross-section of ethnicities and cultures
for a 22-minute show!
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