I’m just going to say this: Disney? I don’t get it.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the whole “magic” of the core Disney universe. If there are people who are completely captivated by that, hey, great for them. The appeal has just never connected with me. Mice, ducks, all animated creatures great and small, it all just seems so arbitrary. Where does this cult-like fan devotion come from?
It’s not like I’m coming at this from an alien perspective, mind you. I grew up in America, and I had a childhood that included “The Wonderful World of Disney” on TV every Sunday night. We watched it in our house, hoping to see cartoons, but usually getting some kind of short movie from the 60s or 70s that may or may not have featured animals, Angela Lansbury, Jodie Foster, Kurt Russell, or the wilderness. They usually didn’t do much for me because they came from the same pool of movies that would have been acceptable to watch at school, so seeing them on the living room TV was one lateral step away from having to do homework. Kids growing up in the 1970s learned the code that Disney movies almost always meant G-rated family afternoons in the summer, and if you weren’t a family that went to the movie theater that often, you jumped at whatever chance you were given. Granted, Disney had a theatrical creative renaissance in the 1990s with movies like “Beauty and the Beast,” “The Lion King,” “Aladdin,” and several others that may have made the leap from lunch boxes to special edition DVD releases to Broadway musicals, but to me those movies always felt like it came with asterisks when compared to the older, classic Disney material.
Maybe it’s because I don’t have kids. I’m sure the appeal of the theme parks increases tenfold if you visit with your children and you know they’re going to light up like candles with excitement just to be there. But I also know adults who get just as excited about those trips, and have taken Disney vacations while leaving the kids at home, and have still had photos taken with costumed characters. Adults, as in plural. I know people who go nearly every year, and, to a degree, see the time of normal life between vacations as little more than down time. I was a guest at Disney World once. (Granted, I was only staying at the hotel and was in Orlando for a different reason, but the bill on my credit card statement and the subsequent years of snail mail pamphlets I’ve received since are proof enough I was a paying visitor.) I remember a swimming pool that was mostly wading pool depth which took up at least nine acres of real estate in the center of the cluster of buildings that made up our...hotel? Resort? Neighborhood? Commune? I remember walking out of my room and turning right and seeing a three-story pair of spangly cowboy boots about five doors down, and they frightened me. I also remember one of the most expensive souvenir shops I’ve ever seen.
I know if I ever conversationally brought up my lack of understanding with the true Disney loyalists, it’s likely I’d be dismissed for not knowing how to just have some fun, which could be a point I wouldn’t readily dismiss. But doesn’t that particular brand of fun come with a price? And I don’t just mean the time invested, or the potential for cranky, tired children during the trip, or the inevitable inconveniences that come with traveling, but a financial (and from what I understand, usually a none too small) price? Couldn’t a similar level of fun be found in other ways?
Why does it need to be Disney? What am I missing here? I see so many others getting so worked up about it and find myself on the outside looking in. It makes me feel like I would be the one person in the world who doesn’t think the Beatles are the greatest band in...
...wait a minute....
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