The Double Edged Sword

THE VAULT

More than anything, Disneyland is simply a unique mode of experiential design.

Walt Disney was the chief purveyor of a concept still around today, known as Edutainment. Walt wanted to educate audiences without them knowing he was doing it: Disneyland was his story-based answer to many of the challenges he faced as his brands grew out of his own control and became internationally recognized social symbols (Mickey Mouse), popular media-related characters (Zorro, Peter Pan), and even his television writers' creations of concepts that were taking audiences places they may never go in reality (Tomorrowland).

With all these brands burgeoning out of Walt's control and into the control of society and his audiences, as well as media critics, he needed to create a place where all these ideas could "live", and where he could have chief control over how they were being used.

With Disneyland, Walt aimed to create a place where all these brands, concepts and names could live. No matter that sweetly innocent story about Daddy's Days at the Griffith Park Carrousel. It is undeniable that Walt loved his family, and that these events did occur - but just like everything else in the Disney Tradition, many times the realities make far less enticing stories than the myths the storytellers who experienced the realities created in their place.

Disneyland would be a place to hold the brands - and for Walt to control their usage in any way he saw fit. As much as it was a place for him and his Imagineers to dream and do, it was also a place to keep safe his decades of trying, difficult work in bringing first the medium of animation, then the medium of television, to startling life.

If Disneyland is a unique experiment in experiential design, its because Walt wanted a double-edged sword: not only would the park serve as his personal vault, a place to protect his creations in forms he alone could determine (largely because while film and television spawned many jealous copycats and thieves, if not simply interested parties for these brands, the idea of creating a place was brand new and prohibitively expensive - unless you were Walt Disney).


THE GUESTS

The other edge of the sword was that this place could be open to the people Walt loved the most: his audience. Not only could it be his protective place, it was a way to remove his brands, ideas and stories from the reach of the Mintz's of the world, yet still make them available to his audience -- and the last thing he wanted to do was make those people bored.

And so Disneyland, which could have easily become a San Simeon under less creative, innovative direction, became a dramatic departure from anything that had been done before in America. Walt's greatest challenge was movement - both in the physical sense of moving people through an experience and in the sense of the story. If we were going to place all these ideas in one space, a space they would have to share the way a family shares a house, it meant there had to be some kind of story structure - a system, a way for the guests to experience the story on the same level that Wonderful World of Color provided pieces of Edutainment.

Walt wanted his guests to experience the story, without them knowing they were experiencing it. John Hench said it best in his landmark article "Disneyland is Good for You", and the reason is because it places you in a three dimensional story environment and refuses time and again to beat you over the head with its own ideals.



Much is the problem with other destination-based entertainments. Six Flags is the most nefarious example. When you visit a six flags park, you are reminded time and again, often in very crass and avoidable marketing cliches, that you are IN a six flags park.

Walt trusted the guests. The early Imagineers all trusted the guests. They knew they were at Disneyland. They expected experiences here unlike anything they could find elsewhere in the world. It was another double-edged sword, though, because the Disney name was gold. Anything that said "Disney" came with the assumption that it would excel to the level of excellent entertainment (a statute Walt himself set in Animation, Television and Feature Films).

The Imagineers knew that giving guests an experience was their top priority. That experience needed (and needs today) to fit within the story being told. When it doesn't, in the same way as when it does, guests cannot put their finger on the issue, but they know deep down that something is wrong.

In the same way Disneyland can be good for you, it can also be bad for you if the story environment, the progression of experiences, the way each show fits into the next show and how they all relate to the space surrounding them - if these things are not considered (regardless of the reason being marketing, revenue, ego or "business need") the show is affected, the guest experience is affected, and ultimately down the line the revenue is affected.




THE ART OF CHARACTER

In the much maligned argument about adding too much "character" to the Disney experience, we must remember a few crucial cornerstones:

1. Disneyland of 1955 was heavily influenced and often based on entertainment properties.

Indeed, Zorro served as a mascot of Frontierland because Walt wanted the cross-population (note: not necessarily cross-promotion or syngery) of the guest experience. It was one thing to take the guests to the "Old West", but Walt had seen experiences in museums and recreations like this across the country, and even as far away as Europe and had come up with the same feeling as many others - there was nothing in that experience to relate to beyond the history. Walt was an educator, but above all he was a true showman, and an entertainer. By adding "character" to his park, he gave the guests a crucial stepping stone that allowed them to relate to the experiences based on properties, ideas and characters that they already recognized.



2. John Hench himself championed the art of character - after all, if Disneyland is a story place, one of the reasons we create stories is so that our characters have a place to live. Disneyland takes this concept and makes it immediate and real: This is, quite literally, the place where these characters live. Hench, in his book (bible) Designing Disney, writes:

"The art of character at the Disney theme parks lies in maintaining the identity of the forms and colors that express the essential personality traits of these beloved characters."

3. Should everything relate to Disney Characters?

The answer is no, but the problem is that the definition of a "Disney Character" is so often misconstrued. Indiana Jones is not considered a character at Disneyland, but is defined as one because he is an integral personality that plays a part in the guest experience. There is a lot to be said for listening to the guests...but there is also a lot to be said for a designer because that person understands the play space on a conscious level far greater than your typical day guest, for whom the experience is subconscious. Much the same, a film director understands his film on a level deeper than any member of his audience.

So, if we are too narrowly defining Disney "Characters", the solution to this conundrum perhaps lies in no more than very careful, detailed decision making:

1. Pick and Choose who lives where.



Characters do not often determine story. Story determines characters. The long shot paints the close up. There is danger in contradicting elements within any story, or any story place, and the same goes for contradictory characters. Stitch should not appear simultaneously in a Tomorrowland attraction and a stage show fifty feet away, and Frozone should not be parading down Main Street. These are contradictions because Frozone's environment (re: story) and Main Street's environment are inherently different.

That is not a bad thing. In fact, thats a very valuable thing.

The story has to be designed and created before it can be populated with character. Either that, or the characters must bring us the story. If a character has a story to tell, as designers we must make a conscious effort to fit that story within an environment that will be thematically correct from long shot to close up within the context of the overall storyspace (The Park).

It makes sense for Mickey and friends to live at the Magic Kingdom or in Disneyland. It also makes sense for Mickey and friends to appear and occupy space at California Adventure - but you cannot make the cost-cutting choice of making these one and the same. Mickey's appearance at DCA must make sense with the environment in which he has been placed. He must become a part of the story.

If we think of the character appearances in the parks, be it in attractions or as walk arounds, as being a part of the story, there is no reason that these characters cannot fit into those stories. Now, there is a clever piece of manipulation going on here from the marketing executives and the guest survey teams: The guests say "We want to see Mickey". The marketing teams take this and turn it into "We want to see THE SAME Mickey everywhere, THE SAME attractions everywhere, THE SAME 'Disney'. One Disney."

This is not the case. Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, Donald and Pluto (among others) are universally adaptable personalities. Thats the beauty in their design. Their rich forms and colors (as mentioned by Hench) can be adapted to any situation. Stronger characters are inevitably more successful than week ones, so why not make the characters and stories in each space strong and relatable and part of a cohesive whole? This is what Hench meant when he said that Disneyland was good for us. It is good for us because its a living, breathing story, provided to us as the ultimate play space.

Former Imagineer Eddie Sotto (among others) has some excellent views on using the characters to deliver the content.

2. Don't Overplay the Angle

If the parks become nothing but character-based experiences, the guests will no longer be receiving the one real promise Disney makes to them: A unique experience. The answer is, use the characters to illustrate your story points. The oversight is that Mickey will still be there. The magic of "Disney" is that the audience - the guests - are going to take whatever we give them. That sounds like a very negative connotation, and it isn't meant to be, but its simply the truth. The Disney brand is a seal of excellence all by itself. Its that way because the company has been striving to provide excellence to its audiences since 1923. Once you've made the sale, stop selling. Switch to gently reminding instead.

3. The Choice

Now, that said, it leaves the choice in the hands of the design team. Its a personal journey as much as it is a shared one, because like any art form, we are creating something from nothing. If thats the case, it means we can either give them more of the same (and it won't affect the ratings/revenue/business) or we can give them an excellent, over the top, completely unique and unforgettable experience (which likely won't affect the ratings/revenue/business).

The point is, if we do it the second way, we are accomplishing the goals. If we do it the first way, the old way, the comfortable way, we are simply plodding along not accomplishing anything. We aren't being innovative and original, because we have taken the previous idea that the audience will take whatever we give them and put a negative spin on it to the effect that we no longer have to try.

*Please note that the phrase "We" in this article is hypothetical. This blog is in no way associated with The Walt Disney Company, and all views expressed belong solely to the individuals providing them.

Its an honest mistake: the idea can be interpreted one of two ways.



Here is the first way:

"I was doing a film title that required an eagle to fly into a lighted foreground and land on a rock while folding his wings. I was provided with an eagle that was too old to do the stunt, and stumbled on the rocks. We watched the dailies in a dark sweatbox. When the lights came on, I saw that one of the Studio executives was in the booth watching with us. I said "I'll do this over again. We'll get the eagle to land right, so that it looks like a conqueror." The executive said "No! We will use it. That's okay, the bastards won't know any different." That was his attitude toward the people for whom he was supposed to furnish entertainment. He didn't like them. He didn't care."

Here is the second way:

"Liking the guests is the key to everything we do."

"We have discovered that even our restrooms can fit into the themed environment....Just as guests taught us about good queue design, they also taught us about the elements needed for preshows."

If the guests are truly the ones who taught the art of the show to the original Imagineers, we owe it to them now to listen to what they are saying. Guests want to see Mickey. This is a fact. How they see Mickey can either be a good, enjoyable experience that cannot be placed within the confines of words, or it can be generic, one-for-all entertainment. Disney, as a brand, is unique. There is no rhyme or reason to the way the stories are created. They come because they come.



This notion makes anyone accustomed to formulas, spreadsheets, algorithms and survey results uncomfortable. One experience does not equate to the next. They cannot be rated. Disneyland cannot be compared to Magic Kingdom Park because they are teling different stories.

Liking the guests truly is the key to everything we do - but the decision on what we provide them, and whether what we provide them is unique and original, is entirely up to us as designers. Whether or not the so-called results of some so-called guest surveys that amount only to numbers on a paper or in an email reflect it or not, the fact is that guests love Disney. They do not, however, define what Disney is. That is a job left to the people creating the entertainment.

I hope the following words will change your life in the same way that they have changed mine: "If you settle for less than excellence, that's exactly what you will get." - Dr. Tim Lautzenheiser.

Designing in Form

Firstly, a congratulations: To all the talented young men and women who sweated away their blood and tears this summer as participants in Drum Corps International's "Summer Music Games". All the corps did an absolutely astounding job with their shows on both of the occasions we had the pleasure of seeing them.

Hats off especially to Phantom Regiment, who took their first ever World Championship title (in full) and garnered the "Spirit of Disney" Award for their 2008 program entitled Spartacus. The thing we can all admire about this cherised activity is that the focus is where it belongs: on the audience, the show, the music and, most importantly, the lessons and friendships learned and obtained through participating.

While viewing The Cadets 2008 program, entitled The Pursuit of Happiness, some interesting thoughts came to mind in regards to the activity and its relation to other types of entertainment.

After the Cadets performed their Quarterfinals show on Thursday evening, corps director and program coordinator George Hopkins had a brief conversation with one of the hosts of the event: "I think there is definitely still potential for voiceover narration in this art form."

The Cadets show this year, I should explain, was a source of much controversy in the Drum Corps community. Having been astounded at the Corps' previous performances, I was disappointed not with the talent and expertise of the corps members, nor with their performance, but with the material itself.

The show is an original production that garners its title from the Thomas Jefferson quote that opened the Declaration of Independence:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness."

From there, we listen to an NPR Radio broadcast about a woman called Sarah Jones, and we follow her through her life and her Pursuit of Happiness.

With key pieces of narration, I could see such a concept working. As it was performed at the DCI Quarterfinals in Bloomington, the show was actually even tolerable. Previously, as when the show was performed in Orlando, The Cadets were still being covered over by voices through most of the more complex musical moments and forming giant smiley faces on the field.

All of this strange spectacle brought to mind a lesson that designers in many different companies in Themed Entertainment have failed to learn: the idea that we must all design within a form.

When we look at The Cadets show compared to the shows of other corps, particularly Phantom Regiment's Spartacus, a much clearer picture begins to emerge. While Hopkin's idea of narration has yet to find its place in the form or its audience, there may still be potential for it in the future.

The fact still remains that what The Cadets said in nearly twelve minutes of narration and music, Phantom Regiment said in twelve minutes and three single words: "I Am Spartacus."

In other words, they let the music tell the story. For Drum Corps, letting the music tell the story is what I'd call designing within the form. The Cadets' program from this year suffered not because of a lack of musicianship or performance quality. In fact, the brass and percussion arrangements and the guard work were all very well arranged, but the reason the show suffered in the end was because of the removal of the narration.

The designers depended far too heavily on something that wasn't within the form to carry the show, and as a result the removal of that element left the music to provide only half of the equation where it should have been providing a solid base on which the rest of the program could grow.

There are foundations in every art form. Calling them rules isn't something I find terribly attractive, because that implies that they must always be followed. Foundations, though, merely implies that things will be easier to build if they are used.

In Drum Corps, the main foundation is the arrangement and/or composition of the music. Next comes the visual impact, which owes to the drill (i.e. the forms the band creates visually on the field by marching in different lines and patterns), and the colorguard. These two elements combine to create what the judges call "General Effect"- in short, how did the audience react to the show?

In Themed Entertainment, the first foundation is story. If an attraction or experience doesn't have story, it may just as well not exist. From story comes character(s), which makes the experience relate to the audience, and sensation & mood, which are what link the experience with the others around it and eventually form a themed environment.

The key to both forms, to any form, really, is story. Its simply the method of relating that story that changes. In Corps, it is done first through music and secondly through visuals. In experiential design it is done through any number of methods: Movement, Sound, Music, Color, Architecture and Action are just a few examples.

All of these things relate directly back to the story.



Stitch's Great Escape. Perhaps the most mentioned failure of Walt Disney World's recent history. Where did things go so terribly wrong?

One of the mainstay ideas behind design in any form is that you must play within certain guidelines. They aren't rules, because they can be broken. The key, as with many arts, is to break them for maximum effect. Stitch's Great Escape is a fabulous example of a show that doesn't play within the guidelines at all the wrong moments. There are shows that utilize audio as a supremely effective story-telling tool (See: The Haunted Mansion, just across the ailing Liberty Square Bridge at Florida's Magic Kingdom Park). Stitch attempts to do exactly that, and fails in a less than spectacular fashion.

The entire last half of the show is audio. We are shown the gorgeous, reality-enhancing Stitch AA figure and it is then abruptly removed from our field of vision, cast out into the audience as a wave-length that relies on multi-dimensional sound. The show that Stitch replaced, Alien Encounter, used audio to maximum effect. The guideline, you see, is that audio should never be used alone because it frightens and confuses the guests, and even more so when it is used in dark and enclosed spaces.

Alien Encounter used its audio tracks in dark and enclosed spaces to do exactly that: frighten the guest. It worked better in that show than it had in any since the original incarnation of The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.



Another productive tool in the designer's toolbox is smell. Soarin' (Over California or not) uses this tool to its maximum effect- and it doesn't break the rules. Interestingly, the smell guidelines have been broken before, namely in the retrofit of Journey into Imagination at the lower-case Epcot, where we are forced to sit through the smell of a skunk.



Stitch decides to run along a similar line and force us to smell his burped up chili dog- not that chili dogs have the faintest thing to do with the mythology of the character, or made any mention or appearance in the film, but then we are talking about breaking all the guidelines at the wrong times, aren't we?

In a nutshell, Stitch's Great Escape and Journey into Imagination do something to the guest that completely pulls a 180 from the original concept of themed show design: these are attractions that place the audience in unpleasant situations without giving them a payoff.

Observe several more successful attractions:



Indiana Jones Adventure: Guests are menaced by snakes, rats, bugs and a giant boulder.
Payoff: Guests escape the boulder and get to live the moment as Indiana does in Raiders of the Lost Ark.



The Seas with Nemo & Friends: Guests are menaced by a forest of Jellyfish and a scary Angler fish.
Payoff: They get to surf the EAC with Crush and....they find Nemo!

Expedition Everest: Guests are menaced by a Yeti high on the Forbidden Mountain, and are thrown backwards through the tunnels and caverns.
Payoff: Guests escape with their lives after a fantastic view of the Yeti and have gained a new understanding of the creature as the protector of the forest.

In short, themed design is all about putting our guests in highly emotional and unexpected situations, perhaps related to the content or characters of their favorite films or television shows, and seeing just how far we can take things before we have to follow the natural story arc and give them the payoff they've been waiting for.

This is the only way the story moves forward. If the Magic Kingdom were filled with lackluster pieces like Stitch's Great Escape, the Magic Kingdom's story arc would not arc at all. It would be a flat line on a boring blank piece of paper.

And we all know how scary those can be!


In the same way that The Cadets didn't design The Pursuit of Happiness within the form, the designers of Stitch's Great Escape neglected to supply their story with the proper foundations. There is a term at WDI that is used more and more often, and to less and less effect. When an attraction is removed, there is often times a war that goes on between different factions of the Disney elite- Creative Entertainment, which sucks up valuable real estate and installs wonderful productions that very rarely fit with their surroundings or have any significance to the story (Finding Nemo: The Musical, anyone?). Walt Disney Imagineering itself, which still puts a great deal more thought into what it places where, and Park Management, which usually makes even further ill-advised decisions because they aren't designers.

It's really a three way street. A theme park is an extremely complex mechanism that couldn't operate without all of these working parts. At the same time, it is impossible to make everybody down the totem pole happy. If you're going to please marketing or park management, good luck pleasing the Imagineers, and if the Imagineers are happy, marketing generally is upset with the outcome.

The term used when an attraction is removed but a new show is placed in the old show space is "Retrofit." Stitch's Great Escape was retro-fitted from "Alien Encounter", which in itself really didn't jive with Tomorrowland or the Magic Kingdom, and really didn't have a place at the Magic Kingdom.

There are lots of different views in regards to what should go where. Certainly, Stitch in Tomorrowland should make sense....but certainly, placing Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor there made no sense at all, because it has no relation to Tomorrowland or its central story. Never mind that, though, because obviously our guests want Monsters. They don't care where we put them. It isn't important.

Well, there is a simple and unfortunate fact that designers and management alike tend to overlook. Our guests are going to enjoy whatever we give them, almost. The meaning of this is not that our guests are stupid. Far from it, actually. It's a fact of human nature that once you've established a name in any entertainment field, there are always expectations, but there are also reverse expectations: the kind that mean audiences will pay to see a film just because it says "Disney".



The "almost" comes in often when classic and beloved shows are ripped out in favor of something new. Throughout history, it has often been the case that guests become extremely upset when a show is removed. The current situation with Pleasure Island is no exception. Many claim to be extremely devoted to the enterprise of saving Pleasure Island. The problem is, they aren't here to show Disney. They cannot make good on their claim. However, if they don't come back because Pleasure Island is closed, and maybe they choose to visit somewhere new and exciting and fresh like Dubai on their next vacation...well, Disney just lost business.

Themed Entertainment isn't a business where business results are immediate, yet most of the current big cheeses think and act the way any MBA would think and act: we want low cost, high-profit, immediate return solutions. Sooner or later, I think they will have no choice but to realize that by retro-fitting attractions or shows into places they don't belong they are not only upsetting and losing their best designers, they are upsetting their paying public, and just because they aren't there to show their support doesn't mean they will forget it and choose to return to a Disney park for their next vacation.

The very essence, the thing that separates a Disney themed show from a standard Six Flags ride, is that we tell stories. It's been banged into the heads of anyone over the age of three that The Walt Disney Company is and always has been in the business of telling stories. Our guests are going to take whatever stories we give them. The very first Imagineers knew this, and they chose to look at the situation in a positive light and used this fact as inspiration to do their absolute best.

This relates directly back to John Hench's experience with a film director from another motion picture studio who commented that his audience "wouldn't know the difference, anyway". It relates directly to the fact that once they are in the gates, we already have their money. This relates directly to the entire concept of Imagineering:

There are two ways to look at a blank sheet of paper. It can be the scariest thing in the world, because no one has put anything on it yet, or it can be the greatest opportunity in the world because no one has put anything on it yet.

If we think of our guests' experience as a blank sheet of paper, we can either choose to view it as the scariest thing in the world (or the most unimportant thing) and not do our best work and provide them with the best show, or we can choose to take it as an opportunity and give them more than they expect. Even, sometimes, more than they can comprehend.

There is a whole new world of Designing within the form waiting. It is the choice of the designer to tell the best story that can be told, or to simply give in to the marketing and management teams that attempt to shoehorn their ideals into a business that has, for nearly 55 years, chosen to disregard them as standard business practices because the goal was the creation of a brand new standard.



Drum Corps is also an activity where storytelling is paramount. Lets not forget that one of the most esteemed titles is the Spirit of Disney award (Phantom Regiment won the Spirit of Disney award for their 2008 program, "Spartacus", pictured above).

Regardless of the form, if we don't stay within the guidelines we risk losing our audience (or our guests). The Cadets risked it this year, and it didn't pay off. Stitch's Great Escape, Journey into Imagination (Redux) and The Enchanted Tiki Room: Under New Management have all risked it in the past and it didn't pay off.

There is only one other thing more terrifying than a blank sheet of paper, and thats a show that breaks the form in the wrong places and provides our guests with experiences they'd rather not remember.