Bringing home some magic

Cinderella Castle decorated for Christmas at night

On Thursday my wife and I headed into the Magic Kingdom on what was one of the last days of our Disney World holiday gift to ourselves. We were attending Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party that night and the Christmas music was already going strong. The party is a special event that Disney charges extra for, so as we were going in, other people were coming out.

Walking out from under the train station, we passed a tiny little woman in a tiny little Disney costume holding a tiny little sign that said “park exit.” Maybe Disney needed to give some of their guests a helpful hint on how to leave, but no one was going to see her. She and her sign were just too tiny, but her employer asked her to stand there and hold that sign, so that’s what she did. She could have stood there counting down the seconds, wishing she was home, but she didn’t. While she held her sign she was doing something else—she was singing along with the holiday songs, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and smiling.

In our time at Disney World my wife and I rode the new Test Track, passed through the new Fantasyland and saw zero dragons. Everything was great (except for the no dragons part, only the media and noted authors got to see that), and we brought home plenty memories and plenty more photos. Hopefully I also brought home some of the magic.

Before a Disney vacation I think about rides, music and general fun, but it’s not until I get there that I remember all the people who sing and smile, working in what seems like an effortless way to make that world safe and happy. I can be a pretty cynical person, but something happens to me when I go to Disney World. All that cynicism just goes away. I almost forget that the rest of the world isn’t like those cast members—happy, helpful, happy—and it’s very jarring when I have my first interaction with someone outside the Disney sphere once the vacation is through.

I’m sure after too long on Disney property anyone would start to go a little bonkers. There’s only so much it’s a small world a person can take. Who can be happy for that long?! Still, I wish I could bring a little of the magic out of the parks. I wish I could introduce every tired gas station attendant, every irritated waiter and every frustrated graphic designer to the little lady who just wanted to smile and make her corner of the world just a little bit better. That kind of thing is infectious.

Brave

Merida from the Pixar film "Brave"Traditions challenged, fates changed, dirty ragged plaid, glowing blue wisps, and an explosion of red hair against the sprawling green Scottish backdrop. I had seen the film Brave in the theater, but for me this is a movie for the home. It’s a small, sweet story, not so epic as I expected or as the name of the film implies, but I think it’s wonderful.

My drawing of Merida went a little off the rails (especially around the “Merida” area). Be kind!

Bob Gurr vs. the Yeti

Bob Gurr vs. the YetiThe hosts of the Season Pass Podcast sat with Bob Gurr (in the man’s house actually) and fed him questions from twitter. People asked the usual—favorite project, best thing about this or that—but one listener wanted to know something specific.

“Ask him if he knows how to fix the Yeti.”

The podcast crew laughed and groaned. Here we go…that stupid Yeti again. One more thing that should be great but just isn’t and no one knows what to do about it. Bob Gurr quieted the room…

“Why yes I do.”

Expedition Everest is Disney’s Animal Kingdom’s premiere attraction and the huge audio animatronic Yeti is the ride’s crowning jewel. The roller coaster dives around and through Mt. Everest, having near misses with the Yeti until finally coming face to face with the giant beast.

The ride is fantastic, but the Yeti itself is a marvel of engineering. Disney wanted this attraction to have a memorable grand finale. The result was an enormous, lunging, swiping audio animatronic that could move so fast and exert so much force that it needed its own support structure and foundation independent of the rest of the building (Imagineers like to say that Expedition Everest is really three buildings in one—the ride track, the mountain and the Yeti).

The Yeti is a marvel of engineering…and a total failure. Walt Disney Imagineering wanted to make the creature as real as possible, so it needed to be big and fast and heavy (the fur alone weighs 6,000 lbs.). All that speed and all that force combined with all that weight meant that the machine was a ticking time bomb. Once the Yeti was switched on it began to tear itself apart. It only functioned for a few months before Disney shut it down.

“Why yes I do,” Bob Gurr said as he blew a “kiss” to the engineers who designed the Yeti.

“You want to create the drama of the size of that very, very threatening creature,” Bob mused. “Alright, stop at that moment and figure out, ‘What is the lightest, simplest thing that I could do to do that?’ “

Bob Gurr understands “kiss”—a classic design principle meaning “keep it simple, stupid.” He did not say, “You want to create the size of that very, very threatening creature,” he said, “You want to create the drama of the size.” A very different thing.

The final, grand reveal of the Yeti lasts only a few seconds. The massive audio animatronic was a marvel of engineering, unfortunately a marvel of engineering wasn’t the ultimate goal. The ultimate goal was a feeling, an emotion, and a well told story. Bob knows this. He should approach design challenges from an engineering first perspective (*note: this line originally identified Bob Gurr as a “licensed engineer,” but he is not as stated in the comments of the “about” page), but he perfected his craft under the watchful eye of Walt Disney. To Walt, story was king. Bob understands that, as an engineer in the entertainment industry, his job is to support the story. There is no need to create something so big and so complex when the drama of size, not size itself, is required.

Keep it simple, stupid.

“Some people do not have the ability to think clearly.” Bob Gurr knows how to think clearly.

Without words: classic Disney meets modern Disney

"under the sea" section from Ariel's Undersea Adventure“Why do they keep making the same rides over and over?” my wife asked.

I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know…” The two of us had just come out of the Little Mermaid attraction in Disney’s California Adventure and were pretty disappointed. Ariel’s Undersea Adventure is an elaborate, expensive retelling of the animated film and, like the very similar Monsters Inc. attraction Mike and Sulley to the Rescue, was installed in an attempt to save Disneyland’s sister park from itself.

California Adventure had opened with alot of fanfare and not much else, and Disney fans complained that the park had a distinct lack of Disney. The company set out to fix this and has been very successful, adding nighttime shows, rethemed areas and the spectacular Cars Land, but they also created the Little Mermaid and Monsters Inc. rides. They called them “classic Disney dark rides,” but most people were less than enthusiastic. The rides are pretty, have lots of music and they take you slowly past colorful audioanimatronics like so many other Disney attractions, but they just lack that certain something.

It was Easter Sunday. My wife and I were expecting big crowds and lots of lines during our first trip to California Adventure, but neither Monsters Inc. nor the Little Mermaid had any lines whatsoever. They each had enormous space blocked off for people to wait, but the queues were deserted. After riding each attraction we understood why. Shrug. We thought about heading back over to Disneyland to ride Pirates of the Caribbean again.

The Season Pass podcast logoOn episode #206 of the popular themepark podcast The Season Pass, Disney Imagineering legend Bob Gurr joined the hosts to talk about the themed entertainment industry, his book and whatever else popped into the sharp witted engineer’s brain. Bob was with Walt Disney from the beginning of Disneyland so any story he tells (and he has alot to tell) is golden.

During the interview, the hosts began to talk about the classic Disneyland attractions Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion. They noted that modern rides are just new technology built on top of Bob’s old techniques but continued off into a little “they don’t make ‘em like they used to” mini-tangent, suggesting Ariel’s Undersea Adventure as an example of a particularly poor ride. Bob Gurr, a good man from a different time, didn’t want to run down the new crop of attractions, but he did offer one observation—

The strength of Pirates and the Haunted Mansion comes from the storytelling, plain and simple.

Well, ok. I’ve heard that plenty and I get it. He went on to say, though, that those attractions get their message across quickly and clearly, without the need for words. The “no words” thing, ironically enough, got me listening to the words he was saying. Someone ridding through a town being sacked by a marauding band of pirates or a house being overrun by restless ghosts has no trouble understanding what is going on. When they say “storytelling” they don’t just mean story, they mean a story being told in the way that it was meant to be told. Storytelling. It’s a story made for this ride and that’s why it works.

It makes perfect sense.

To look at why one ride works makes it plainly obvious why another does not. The stories of the Little Mermaid (as we now know it) and Monsters Inc. were created for film, not for themed rides. They are very complex and have alot of things that need to be communicated so the audience can understand what is going on. This requires a heap of words. Even in the Little Mermaid film, there was alot of verbal backstory and buildup required for Ariel’s loss of her voice to be effective.

Both attractions attempt to retell their films from start to finish, impossible to do in the span of a few minutes and a few more feet of ride track.

Even rides like Snow White and Peter Pan, which these newer attractions try to emulate, have very weak spots that are the result of trying to tell the story of the film. The best part of the Snow White attraction is running through the spooky forrest, but it gets a little mixed up when it tries to tie up the movie’s plot. The best part of the Peter Pan attraction is flying out the window and over London, but it suffers the same when it dips too literally into the film. Both running through the spooky forrest and flying over London are experiences that are easily understood and these are the moments that make the attractions memorable. Whether you have seen the movie or not, you can understand what is being conveyed.

The classic attractions are great when they tell the small story of an emotional experience. The classic attractions slip up when they try to stick too closely to the films. Unfortunately Ariel’s Undersea Adventure and Mike and Sulley to the Rescue are mostly all of the latter and almost none of the former.

My wife and I continued our wanderings through California Adventure. She was particularly excited to go on the Monsters Inc. ride since it’s her favorite Pixar film. Unfortunately we were both pretty disappointed by what we got. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Either that, or they are trying too hard to do just that. Too bad they decided to make the ride a “classic” instead of just making it “good.”

Dick Sherman’s smile

Richard ShermanIt’s a Small World chanté au piano par Richard… by djf06

The link above will take you to a video of Richard Sherman, co-writer of many classic Disney songs, performing the original version of It’s A Small World. The song starts out much slower until it picks up the pace as it nears that familiar refrain that can get stuck in your head for days.

My favorite thing about this video is at the very end. After Dick Sherman bangs out the final notes, he turns, props his elbow on his piano and gives a wide grin. There was joy in creating the song and clearly there is joy in sharing it.

I create stuff for a living. Every day I make something new and too often I forget just how much fun that is. There is joy in creating and joy in doing. The thing that is so hard for me (for whatever strange reason), is finding joy in sharing things with others. Don’t get me wrong, I love having other people see, listen to or just enjoy my work, but I hate physically being there while they do it. Direct attention seems to make me extremely uncomfortable, but maybe if I can learn to show off my work with the same kind of joy that goes into making it, that little fear will become a thing of the past.

I may not always be asked to work on something that I like, but I’m a fast worker which means a fun project is just around the corner if I decide to go looking for it.

Disneyland’s windy detail

I had read all about Disneyland, about the dream and design and everything that went into making it a reality, so getting the chance to finally visit was very special for me. As I walked around trying to take everything in, I happened to glance up and I noticed something I had actually forgotten all about.

Jolly Holiday Bakery“Oh yeah!” There, high atop the Jolly Holliday Bakery was a weathervane.

Mary Poppins weathervaneI told my wife about Disneyland’s tradition of putting specialized custom weathervanes on top of many of their buildings. This one, an iron Mary Poppins, was one of the newest additions.

“Why would they do that?” she asked. It’s a fair question since the majority of the people visiting the park will never notice the little spinning pieces of art. Even if they do notice them they probably won’t think twice, mostly just letting them drift into the scenery. Why in the world would Disney spend energy on something so small when they have so many massive projects to take care of. (they even design them into their concept art)

Disney concept artMy wife is a born engineer. For engineers, there is a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things and everything has a purpose. There is yes and no, on and off, zero and one. She is unique, though, in that she straddles the very exact world of engineering and the very inexact world of design and art. A weathervane that no one notices has no direct purpose and gives no result that can be quantified, but sometimes things that aren’t quantifiable serve a greater purpose.

I love Disney details and Disneyland is a details park. It doesn’t have the “blessing of size” like in Florida and it doesn’t have a blank check behind it like in Japan, but what it does have is a saturation of talent since it’s the home of Walt Disney’s Imagineers.

A weathervane is a small detail, one that by itself doesn’t mean much. Weathervanes plural, however, add up and those together with all the other little touches that make Disneyland what it is slowly starts to change things. When we are in the park we know we are in Anaheim. There is traffic and smog and buildings piled on top of buildings just on the other side of that line of trees. We know this. Somehow, though, the details start to conspire and we begin to believe we are somewhere else entirely. Something happens inside a person as they go from knowing to believing.

Pirate ship weathervaneMr. Toad weathervaneImagineers love detail and know how to tell a story through through that detail. Many of the Imagineers grew up with Disneyland being their park so the desire to make it extra special is very strong. When that happens, no detail is too small.

End with a bang

Fireworks over Sleeping Beauty CastleOur day in Disneyland was nearly over. We stood and watched Fantasmic, a nighttime pyrotechnics show performed on the rivers of America, followed by the nightly fireworks over Sleeping Beauty Castle. It was the perfect way to end a really fantastic day, and in fact, after seeing the two shows and feeling the final bang of the last firework, it’s hard to remember anything that didn’t go right. The ending was perfect. The day was perfect.

Being home I’ve trained my brain back to local entertainment. The Atlanta attractions get alot of things right, but they can miss the mark when it comes to “Act 3.” Generally when people leave for the day they simply leave. Atlanta’s venues, like most non-Disney/non-Universal attractions across the country, don’t end the day with a bang.

A strange quirk of the themed entertainment business is that the way people end their day completely changes their perception of everything they experienced during their day. People who go home after seeing a big show, a performance or spectacle, tend to rate every element from their day as being better than those who simply went home. Guests rate the attractions better, the lines better, the food better, they even rate the cleanliness of the bathrooms better. Everything raises up to a new level when there is a definitive ending rather than just a, “Welp, time to go.” A grand finale means people will smile as they go out he gate. Smiling faces come back…and they bring friends.

Knowing this, it’s hard to understand why local attractions don’t give more attention to what people take with them when they leave. They try Act 1 (welcome to our place!) have a whole bunch of Act 2 (check out our stuff!), but then forget to finish off Act 3 (yeah, we’re closed). If you were to ask museums and parks what kind of lasting impression their attraction leaves on the guests, they will say, “Well, we hope that…” or, “The goal is…” Nope. That response means you are speaking with someone who doesn’t believe their venue delivers. They may not be sure why the experience sorta fizzles out, but they know it does. Disney knows what their guests bring home with them.

Ending with a bang can be costly (the money that goes into Dsney’s fireworks, water displays and elaborate stageshows could bring most of Africa out of poverty) but quite honestly, it doesn’t have to be. You don’t need to contract the biggest (and most expensive) names in the business to create something special. All that is required is the creative use of the assets that you have on hand, the most important asset being the talent and passion of your staff. People, particularly people from other disciplines, can come up with some amazing solutions to problems when given the chance. A creative person can bring excitement to an academic problem and an academic can bring a realistic solution to a creative problem. This kind of coming together can cause a real bang and bring a solid attraction up to the level of greatness.

Yes, in the film Amadeus Mozart used the idea of “ending with a bang” as a way to insult Salieri (The exchange went something like—Salieri (refering to Mozart’s latest composition): You didn’t even give them a good bang to let them know when it was finished! Mozart (sarcastically): Yes, well maybe I can take lessons from you on how to do that.), but we are talking about entertainment here, not art. Lights timed to music, displays used in unusual ways, a captivating performer retelling the story of the attraction through new and surprising methods can all bring the day to a spectacular close and make people say, “Did you hear what they are doing over at xxx? I have GOT to get over there!”

Obviously you want a guest’s experience throughout their day to be at the highest level possible, but when the day ends, make sure it ends with a bang.

Some time in the sweatbox

Walt Disney and his animators in the sweatboxSweatbox. It’s a term coined during the early days of animation at the Walt Disney Studios and is a room where animators would show their rough animation to Walt for approval. The name comes from both the cramped, sweaty conditions in the room, but also the emotional state of the animators nervously trying to please the boss.

It is from this history that we get the film Sweatbox (article no longer links to the film), an unauthorized documentary that chronicles the making of The Emperor’s New Groove, from story to design to music by Sting. Disney makes films like this all the time, but The Emperor’s New Groove had such a long and torturous journey that in some cases it brought out the “business” in the businessmen, prompting the Disney execs to scrap the documentary all together.

Luckily the filmmakers (Sting’s wife oddly enough) grew tired of sitting on their work and, in researching ways to get the movie out to the public, stumbled across something called “the internet.”

Two things from the film stuck with me. One of the players talked about the importance of addressing painful situations early, to get pain out of the way so a project can move forward. When it was decided that the early version of Disney’s newest story wasn’t working, swift and sweeping changes where made. There was no wait and see, no further test audiences, the people in charge assessed the situation and acted. He said that delayed pain is exacerbated pain and will only get worse the longer you wait. This has been a major difficulty for me in the past.

To me, addressing problems means confrontation and I’m not a confrontation kind of guy. I like conversation and collaboration, but I will let things slip bit by bit, thinking that it’s not a big deal but of course eventually the little bits add up to huge bites. What I never realize until it is far too late is that the only reason a confrontation may be necessary is because I have allowed a problem to get so out of hand that confrontation is inevitable. Maybe I need to institute a personal sweatbox policy.

Walt Disney did not use his sweatbox as a form of confrontation, he used it as a way to address problems before they became Problems. It may be hard, but addressing pain early, establishing parameters (as in dealing with bullies) and making sure everyone is still on the right track is essential to making sure a problem with a little p doesn’t become a problem with a big p. (Side note: Walt Disney could have taken a lesson from himself and “sweatboxed” the situation that lead up to his animators’ strike in the 1940s. The situation went from a problem to a Problem to a PROBLEM and probably could have been avoided if he had properly addressed it before things got out of hand).

You can make the best train in the world, but if you have no track and let all the railcars become unattached you no longer have a train, you have bumper cars.

The second thing that stuck with me was another quote from the documentary that dealt with the director who was removed from what would become The Emperor’s New Groove. The director was justifiably crushed (he had been on the project for years already) but he didn’t grumble, he wasn’t bitter, and he didn’t let everyone know just how unhappy he was by sulking and being generally unpleasant. Instead, he behaved like “a gentleman and an adult.” No one can blame a person for being upset when things aren’t going well, but after frustrations you pick yourself up and get moving again, which is something else I need to learn.

Sweatbox, if you can still find it (which is becoming increasingly difficult), is an enjoyable watch for fans of animation, process and storytelling as well as anyone who enjoys seeing Sting get irritated.

Stories don’t grow on trees

Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse

Permanent exhibits have caught the story buzz. “Story! We need a story! Beginning! Middle! End! We need plot twists and wizards and Dan Brown!! Ahhhh! AHHHH!!!” (that’s a transcript from a meeting I attended the other day by the way)

It’s a fantastic thing, designers and attraction directors focusing attention on devices that engage people, but there’s a dark dark side to storytelling. The danger for galleries, museums or themeparks is interpreting the word “story” too literally. While you want to create an experience that is immersive and involves guests on an emotional level, a designer can so carefully plot an attraction or exhibit that there is no room for a guest to drop their guard, invest themselves and create their own story.

On an episode of WedwayRadio, Sam Genneway of SamLand points out an excellent example of story gone amuck in comparing the two Disney themepark treehouses in America, one in Florida themed to the Swiss Family Robinson and the other in California themed to Tarzan. He says (paraphrased)—

…Disney wanted to create a set where people could be the actors and live out their fantasies on that stage.

Today it’s all about this business about story…we’re going to describe a story. With the treehouse…when it was the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse like it is still in Florida, even if you don’t know anything about the movie property you could walk through the treehouse and imagine what it would have been like to live in this treehouse. Would it have been fun, would you like living up here, would you like getting your water through that little conveyance system or something. Now you’re just walking through a diorama of a story and it’s almost just an exercise. It doesn’t wrap you up into it. Your brain doesn’t have to function if you don’t want it to, but you can’t help it at the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse in Florida. You’ve got to look at the little bed and go, “Wouldn’t it be cool to spend the night in here?”

If you can get to the point when you’re in an immersive environment that you let down your guard so much that you can start to have these little fantasies about your environment and you start to become a character that fits in appropriately within the culture of that environment, that’s real success!

The Swiss Family Robinson treehouse shows a living environment with places to work, cook, play and sleep, while the Tarzan treehouse shows…well, Tarzan. The first engages your mind and is an active experience that gives you room to think, “I wonder what it would be like to live here…” while the second shuts your brain down and is more passive, leading your brain to think, “I wonder what it would be like to not be in this treehouse anymore.”

Tarzan's Treehouse interior

Designed environments need to be focused, but they shouldn’t be so focused that there is no room left for the guest. Plotting an exhibit too tightly sends the message that “it’s this or nothing.” Of course with so many ways to spend our time there is no such thing as nothing, there is always something…as in something else.