Beyond Blue Sky: The Disneylands Within Disneyland

Some Disney attractions could be considered “theme parks within theme parks,” and usually the fans don't think much of them. The stand-out examples here are Chester & Hester's Din-o-Rama (Animal Kingdom) and Paradise Pier (California Adventure). The first has often been called inappropriately cheesy and cheap-looking.* The second elicits the burning question: “What is the point of an amusement park-themed amusement park?” Whatever your personal opinion of these areas, you can see the complainers' point. We prefer Disney attractions because they aren't just the same old off-the-shelf carnival rides in the same old dingy, unadorned carnival setting. It feels like a betrayal when they backslide to the minimal theming effort typified by California Screamin' and Triceratops Spin.

But sometimes recursion can work. There are at least two miniature Disneylands within Disneyland. They have been operating for decades—one of them goes right back to July 17, 1955—entertaining thousands of guests every day, and to the best of my knowledge even the most persnickety park aficionado has not called them out for being redundant or inadequately themed.

In fact, most people don't even seem to notice that they are, effectively, miniature Disneylands.

First I would like to get one thing out of the way, for all the snarklords out there (you know who you are). I am not talking about this thing:

I love this thing. I can scrutinize it for upwards of half an hour at a time, putting names to all the little obscure features from the park's early days that didn't work out or turned into something else, trying to imagine what it must have been like at ground level. But it's not what I'm here to discuss today. This is the obvious miniature Disneyland within Disneyland, and while it is a beautiful model, it's not illuminating in the way my real subjects are.

So let's dig in.

Pleasure Island: Disneyland Contradicts Itself

Feel pity for Pinocchio's Daring Journey, for it is the least-loved of the Fantasyland dark rides. There is a pretty narrow range of people who are both old enough to have seen Pinocchio in theaters (if not in 1940, then in one of the re-releases before the proliferation of home video made that sort of thing redundant) and young enough that the ride—the Johnny-come-lately of the bunch, installed in 1983—holds a place of childhood nostalgia for them. Unlike Peter Pan's Flight and Alice in Wonderland, it's not based on a perpetually popular film. Unlike Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, it's not offbeat and subversive. It doesn't even have the Princess power that keeps Snow White's Scary Adventures whistling while it works. Even the people you might expect to defend it, the theme park fans, often criticize it for being too literal a summary of the movie, rather than (like the others) focusing on recreating a first-person perspective of the most colorful settings in the movie.

But I digress. The point isn't what Pinocchio's Daring Journey lacks, but what it has: an entire middle sequence taking place in...an amusement park. To be fair, Pleasure Island is not very much like Disneyland, but it does have fireworks...

...and a carousel...

...and a vast array of junk food to tempt its young visitors.

Of course, in the film Pinocchio, as in Collodi's original serialized novel—and therefore in the ride as well—Pleasure Island is a trap, transforming its “customers” into donkeys as punishment for the indolence and hedonism they demonstrate by visiting it. Thus, one could argue, for that minute-and-a-half or however long it takes to get through that section of the ride, Disneyland is arguing against its own existence.

Not that I would expect anyone to be convinced by such an argument. Context is key. Pleasure Island isn't merely an amusement park, but an amusement park designed from the ground up to encourage and indulge little boys' worst impulses, starting with the fact that they have to skip school and disobey their parents in order to go there. I don't think Disneyland condones truancy, and I'm damn certain it doesn't condone vandalism, fisticuffs, or underage drinking and smoking.** And that's how the park manages to present this morality play without calling its own status as a beloved form of family-friendly entertainment into question.

I mean, it's not as if they even have the Pack Mules anymore...

Neverland: Disneyland Reiterates Itself

The above was a hopefully amusing little diversion, maybe worth a wry “Huh.” The following is, I think, genuinely interesting for what it potentially reveals about the conceptual roots of Disneyland. Everyone knows that the park began as, basically, “stuff Walt likes” and continued in that vein until he died, but have you ever wondered how Walt Disney developed his eclectic tastes to begin with? Is there anything solidly linking together such diverse ideas as wild animal safaris, Indian villages, fairy tale forests, and pirate ships?

Well...

...maybe?

Here's what we do know: Walt Disney loved the Peter Pan story. He was just the right age to be completely enthralled by it when the play first came to the United States, and he carried that love with him as he went into animation. If not for some initial difficulties obtaining the film rights (which started a chain reaction of production delays), it would have been the second animated feature produced by Walt Disney Animation, right after Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. As things went, it wasn't released until 1953. The following year, construction began on Disneyland.

This means the two projects were in development at the same time. I can't help but think there was some cross-pollination there, and not just in the decision to build Peter Pan's Flight and use Tinkerbell as the park's mascot.

Have you ever noticed how the overall structure of a Disneyland visit roughly parallels the plot of Peter Pan? Think about it—you start off in a turn-of-the-20^th-century neighborhood,*** and only then move on to the “awfully big adventures” involving pirates and fairies and Indians. And why did you go to Disneyland in the first place? For a taste of eternal youth, of course! But it can't last forever, and sooner or later you have to return to that 1900s town and get ready to face your everyday responsibilities again.

I'm not saying Walt and the Imagineers were deliberately trying to recreate the Darling children's journey in the design of Disneyland, but clearly, similar thematic elements were in play. I don't think it's going too far to suggest that seeing the play as a child had a big impact on the sorts of things Walt considered essential to a perfect playground, and then working on the movie reminded him.

Maybe that's why Peter Pan's Flight is all about the journey to Neverland, spending very little time actually in it. The entire park is already Neverland; duplicating much of it in a single ride would a) be redundant and b) not come close to doing justice to the concepts. But the one thing Disneyland can't do for you is let you fly from place to place, so the ride covers that angle (and covers it very well, judging by its immense popularity).

Back in my post about Fantasmic!, I talked some about this phenomenon of concepts recurring in different contexts across Disney movies and theme parks. The more I think about it, the more of these connections I notice, and it just increases my appreciation for the Disney oeuvre as a whole. The recurring themes can be construed as internally consistent “rules” defining the Disney shared universe, which in turn makes the whole thing feel more meaningful than if it were “merely” light entertainment. It gives our imaginations something to work with, and wild flights of imagination are what Beyond Blue Sky is all about.

Till next time, loyal readers!

* My understanding is, it was supposed to—the area's backstory involves tension between the scientists who want to study the fossils and the amusement park owners who just want to make a quick buck off the popularity of dinosaurs. The real lesson here might be not to make up such complicated backstories for your themed areas.

** Or drinking and smoking at all, really, considering that none of the public eateries serve alcohol and the smoking areas are increasingly tiny and pushed out of the way. As they should be, because cigarette smoke is a public nuisance.

*** I hesitate to call Main Street USA “Edwardian” because it is American rather than British, but it still shares a time period with the Darlings' London.