Monday, August 7, 2017

Imagineering Theory: The Art of Placemaking, Part 1

So a couple weeks ago, I was not entirely critical of the announced plan to remake Paradise Pier into “Pixar Pier.” Even though I assume this will ultimately end up meaning “basically the same thing but with pictures of characters everywhere,” it at least has the potential to wind up marginally more interesting than what we currently have, which is perhaps best described as “I dunno, carnival rides and stuff—hey look! Mickey Mouse!” I know there's supposed to be some sort of “Victorian seaside amusement park” motif going on, but honestly? It doesn't come across that well. It's going to be hard to convince me that it's the 1890s while simultaneously going “Hey look! Mickey Mouse!”
But let's be real for a moment here...unless I have radically misunderstood John Lasseter's intentions, “Pixar Pier” is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a proper area theme. It occurs to me that one of the problems with current design directions in the Disney parks is that a fundamental misunderstanding of what area theming is, has taken root among both designers and fans. People have somehow gotten the idea that area theming is nothing more than some rides that are placed close together and have something in common (and that “something” can be nothing more than a brand).
But it's not, is it? Proper area theming is sometimes referred to with another word: placemaking. I have never seen this word used in any other context and have no idea when or by whom it was coined, but it's such a perfect encapsulation of what good area theming does: it makes a place. And I believe that the success or failure of a themed area as a whole hinges on whether or not guests a) recognize that place, and b) consider it a good place to be, outside of the attractions.
Can we get any additional insight by examining the existing themed areas of the Disneyland Resort and seeing how they hold up? Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?



Main Street, USA

The Setting: We've all heard the copy a thousand times: A small American town around the turn of the 20th Century. Although inspired by Walt Disney's own childhood hometown of Marceline, MO and taking much of its visual direction from Fort Collins, CO, it's not meant to represent a particular town, but a sort of Platonic archetype. This could be any town. Functionally, it is every town, at what might be considered the United States's last moment of innocence.* This lack of specificity extends into the precise era depicted, as area music, the cartoon shorts played in the Main Street Cinema, and other details draw upon cultural elements from as far forward as the Twenties and Thirties.
Do We Recognize It?: Well, duh. We Americans are taught from the cradle that this is our true heritage—the wholesome, honest, decent, clean, traditional community where folks value hard work and respect each other and don't even lock their doors at night. It's an idealized fiction...which means it fits right in at Disneyland. What's especially interesting about it is that what was personally familiar to the grandparently generation of guests in 1955 is now the distant past, but no less familiar.
Do We Want To Be There?: Not really, I don't think? As a setting, the 1900s small American town is maybe a little too familiar. It lacks excitement. This is just where people go about their daily business and they don't even have smartphones. But that is no failing where Main Street is concerned, because we aren't really meant to linger here. It's a corridor, not a room.
So Does It Work?: Pretty much. It's a warm, welcoming, innocent environment used as Disneyland's warm welcome mat of innocence.


Adventureland

The Setting: Adventureland represents “the tropics”—Africa, Asia, South America, Polynesia, even medieval Arabia via Aladdin's Oasis. Rather than trying to recreate a single place or time, it's a pastiche of “exotic” places across a broad range of times, from the mythic past to the pulpy early Twentieth Century to a functionally modern period. On the whole, Adventureland suggests that adventure is a feature of certain places in the real world, not the exclusive province of fictional Otherworlds.
Do We Recognize It?: Certainly. Even in this age of Google satellites, tropical jungles remain a common narrative shorthand—maybe the most common—for a place brimming with excitement and unusual happenings.
Do We Want To Be There?: I would say so. People book safaris and rain forest tours in the real tropics every day, to say nothing of vacations in places like Hawaii and Cabo San Lucas. Whether we're looking for excitement or relaxation or just an opportunity to bask in the lushness of nature, the tropics offer it.
So Does It Work?: Definitely. Adventureland boasts some pretty cool attractions, but it's also a pretty cool area to just walk through and point at everything.


New Orleans Square

The Setting: New Orleans, of course—not a point-for-point reproduction of any particular part of the real city, but a pretty dead-on representation of what the French Quarter looks like. It's mostly realistic and down-to-earth (one might wonder what tourists from the actual New Orleans think of it**), but on the other hand, the land is bracketed by the fantastic experiences of Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion, heightening the romance and exoticism in what is already one of the most culturally distinct American cities.
Do We Recognize It?: The answer to this question will depend upon how familiar you are with New Orleans itself. It wasn't until I was a young adult and the internet was becoming a real force to be reckoned with that I saw enough photos of New Orleans to realize how perfectly designed the Disneyland buildings are.
Do We Want To Be There?: Considering what foot traffic in this part of Disneyland is usually like, I suppose we do. More seriously, even without its tentpole rides, New Orleans Square replicates a city known for its good food, good music, and good times. What's not to enjoy?
So Does It Work?: It would be easy to go glib here and say the popularity of New Orleans Square speaks for itself, but I'm not entirely sure that it does. The uniqueness of the area, and the unusualness of the relationship between its overall theme and its signature attractions, cannot be overstated. I'm gonna go ahead and say yeah, it works, but I can't guarantee that it works within the model I am proposing.


Critter Country

The Setting: A rustic woodland where the folks...are critters! This is a land where the theme has actually deteriorated over the years (though it's not as bad as Tomorrowland). It started out very strong when it was Bear Country, distinctly modeled on the evergreen forests of the Pacific Northwest. The addition of Splash Mountain, with its Southern setting, muddled things a bit, but it was still definitely American and straddled the line between rural and wilderness. When the Country Bears were ousted in favor of Pooh Bear, an English countryside flavor was jammed in with the rest. It's a hodgepodge that only barely holds together under the umbrella of “forest.”
Do We Recognize It?: Not really. Northwestern pine trees and log-built structures, Southern swampland with its distinctive vegetation, and cozy English deciduous woodlands don't go together. You don't have to be an expert in the forest biomes of the Northern Hemisphere to register the disharmony on a subconscious level.
Do We Want To Be There?: Again, not really. You go to Critter Country to hit one of the two rides or eat hamburgers. It's not a “hangout” type of land.
So Does It Work?: In light of the above, you will not be surprised when I say that no, it doesn't. “Critter Country” is at this point a label of convenience for an area that's not quite part of Frontierland but doesn't have a solid theme of its own anymore.


Frontierland

The Setting: Just as Adventureland is a pastiche of the tropical regions of the world, Frontierland is a pastiche of the American Old West, including not just the stereotypical “cowpoke town” with a saloon, palisade, and wooden sidewalks, but Southwestern desert landscape, the untamed Midwestern wilderness, and even a hint of Old Mexico.
Do We Recognize It?: Boy howdy, do we ever. Without accurately portraying any one aspect of the Western expansion period, Frontierland nonetheless successfully conveys the overall period in question, as seen in a thousand and one genre films and novels. It's a microcosm of a hundred years of history across a couple million square miles of space.
Do We Want To Be There?: Of this, I am less certain. The star of the Western genre has dimmed in recent decades, as social mores have changed and the average (white) American has become increasingly ambivalent about certain aspects of our own history...to say nothing about how Americans of color might feel about it! The fantasy comes across less harmless than it did once and reveling in it potentially raises questions we'd rather not deal with in a theme park setting. On the other hand, the area has just undergone some interesting remodeling (which I am looking forward to seeing), so there's obviously some life left in it yet.
So Does It Work?: Yep. Sociopolitical uneasiness aside, Frontierland is a solid concept, and one flexible enough to accommodate a multitude of ideas.


Fantasyland

The Setting: There actually isn't just one setting for Fantasyland, although the area's geography tricks you into not noticing the seams. The area includes a storybook village, Wonderland, a circus/carnival, the Alps, and some sort of weird mid-Sixties pop-up book structure that's not really comparable to anything else in the world. It doesn't exactly blend, but it's pretty cool regardless. Ultimately, though, I think most people think of Fantasyland as Disney Animated Movie Land, and that's okay too.
Do We Recognize It?: It depends upon which area we're talking about. Most of the settings in Fantasyland are pretty easily graspable, but the Small World Promenade is a law unto itself. As Disney Animated Movie Land, it speaks for itself.
Do We Want To Be There?: It's hard to say, actually. Fantasyland is so dense with rides and attractions that there's not much real estate left over to gauge whether people are enjoying it for its atmosphere. On balance, though, I have to assume that diving into the worlds of Disney fairy tales and fantasy adventures is appealing.
So Does It Work?: Overall, definitely. Just don't ask about the Small World Promenade.


Mickey's Toontown

The Setting: A cartoon city where the laws of physics Do Not Apply! Colors are bright to the point of obnoxiousness and the stars of the classic Disney shorts live in the local neighborhood!
Do We Recognize It?: We do. If you've seen any given...let's say five classic Disney cartoons, this sort of visual vocabulary is instantly recognizable.
Do We Want To Be There?: Not necessarily. Classic cartoons are loads of fun to watch, but being inside them is not everyone's idea of a good time.
So Does It Work?: It's iffy. For as well-realized as Toontown is, if it can't get people excited about being here then it's not doing its job. There is definite room for improvement here.


Tomorrowland

The Setting: Hoo boy. In theory, Tomorrowland is supposed to be “the world of the future,” but in the past 20-30 years it has gone so far off those rails that you would be hard-pressed to identify what it actually is anymore.
Do We Recognize It?: I think I implied above that we do not.
Do We Want To Be There?: You know what? I think we would, if we could tell where we were. Space travel, clean futuristic cities, maybe fully immersive virtual reality...hell, the science-fiction settings of some of the movies that have taken over lately...these are legitimately compelling setting concepts that I think people would really go for if they were identifiably there.
So Does It Work?: No. In its current form, Tomorrowland does not work. But it could if they could commit to a direction.



Next week, I'll tackle California Adventure's area themes and try to draw some sort of conclusion from all this.



* Wow, that went a little dark.
** Trick question—tourists from New Orleans go to Walt Disney World, which doesn't have a New Orleans Square.

2 comments:

  1. Nice analysis!

    Just some added points... I love Main Street and I love lingering there. I've said before and I'll say again that you get a lot of enjoyment out of it if you do treat it as an actual land with rides and attractions of its own, rather than just the mall to get through to get to the rides and attractions. But then to me, Main St. is even more quintessentially Disneyland than Fantasyland is. And I love the Gay Nineties aesthetic, which helps too.

    Fantasyland is lovely, but it's so jam-packed with attractions in such a small geographic space that there's nowhere TO linger. It's a space to go from ride to ride to ride, not to hang out. That's a shame though, because the fairy tale setting IS so wonderful. We would just hang out there, if we could.

    The real lingerable space is the Rivers of America waterfront: Frontierland, New Orleans Square, and Critter Country. It's the largest geographic space in the park, with the most scenery, biggest vistas, and readily abundant seating. The clearest contrast is between this area's verandas and the Village Haus. The latter's outdoor seating is... I won't say unpleasant, but... well... I prefer eating INDOORS there. But the Rancho del Zocalo, River Belle Terrace, French Market, Cafe Orleans, and Hungry Bear? You WANT to be outside, appreciating the beauty and ambiance and view of the big river. Several attractions in the area are designed around appreciating the beauty and romance of the landscaping (e.g.: Mark Twain Riverboat). Then you factor in Tom Sawyer Island as the closest thing the park to a natural wild space and there you go. It's just a shame that Disneyland has tried their hardest to take the really intriguing little hidden spots in New Orleans Square and "privatize" them.

    I wish Adventureland had more space... I do love just sitting around in the Enchanted Tiki Room lanai, and I'd love just sitting in a veranda overlooking the Jungle Cruise, or have some porches on the treehouse to pause on. Too often Adventureland is too packed to be pleasant, but that does in turn drive you into the four attractions where you can, at least, linger in the queues (which are all done well).

    Mickey's Toontown COULD be better if there were some trees. The main appeal of the land is really to investigate it. You don't so much linger there as do all the things there... Find the interactives, find the gags, check out the houses, etc.

    I agree that Tomorrowland COULD be a good space, and they need look no further than Tomorrowland in WDW to see how. My wife and I went on Carousel of Progress once, and Stitch's Great Escape once, and Space Mountain once, but we just rode around on the Peoplemover more times than I exactly recall. I actually enjoyed just hanging around Tomorrowland, without feeling a need to actually ride anything per se. It was a well done, relatively cohesive, geographically open, interesting space.

    (of course the rules are different at WDW... Main St. has fewer actual attractions to keep you there, the Rivers of America waterfront is not as inviting, but Fantasyland and Tomorrowland are much more open spaces that invite lingering, and the Sorcerers of the Magic Kingdom game actually gets you spending time in the lands and investigating instead of just zipping from ride to ride)


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    1. I personally agree with you regarding the hang-out-ability of Main Street and Frontierland--of course! I'm considering all this more from the perspective of the average guest.

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