The surprising longevity of theme parks
A few years ago, I read a science fiction novel called Down and Under in the Magic Kingdom. It played with a lot of standard science fiction ideas, including a post-scarcity society, de facto immortality, and synthetic memories. One of the most interesting aspects of the novel however, was the premise that Disneyworld would continue to exist in this future. Not only that, but one of the key elements of the plot is a conflict between two rival factions, one who wants to turn a ride into a virtual-neuralink-esque experience, while the other wants to preserve the animatronics robots of the ride. Animatronics for a hundred years into the future! When even kids now live in the desert of the unreal!
Last month, I went to two theme parks: Universal Studios Japan and Disney Sea. I, a grown man, went to two theme parks with my family, and had fun. To clarify, I didn’t go with my children, I was the child going with my parents. There is simply something undeniably attractive and intangibly appealing about physical theme parks. I have been to my fair share of theme parks, so I know not to attribute the wonder of the experience to Japan, or miraculous technology. Perhaps it’s because everything creative and unnatural that we enjoy these days is virtual and digital, that an old-fashioned theme park with animatronics and moving seats appeals to me so.
In fact, every time that I’ve been to a theme park, since I became a teenager, I was convinced that it would be a passable time, only to have a surprising amount of fun. The rides, the parades, and even the walks around the park were interesting. The amount of detail that Disney and Universal put into the parks is painstaking and evident in the effect the parks have on me.
Universal Studios Japan was the newer of the two parks, and the design of the Harry Potter area and the Super Mario Brothers area were spectacular. Hogsmeade was realistic and lived in, and Hogwarts was made with some sort of perspective warping that made it look huge and distant. The whole area was hidden by a forest of trees that obscured the park until guests had turned the corner and saw it all at once. Likewise, Super Mario Land was hidden behind a hill and a green pipe. Emerging from the green pipe revealed an area where everything was blocked in primary colours, and Yoshis, Goombas, and Toads ran amok. There was nothing natural or familiar about this world, and the line for the feature ride took us through a densely decorated Bowser’s Castle. The ride itself was an interactive augmented reality ride, with everyone being given visors and controllers to shoot shells at opposing Mario Karters.
None of these things were technological marvels. In fact, they were anything but, merging aged technology with aged rail track. Yet the little details and surprises were much appreciated. One of the rides was a simple roller coaster, but riders had speakers near their head and could chose a song to listen to while on the coaster. Another was a ride that combined aspects of older 4-D movie attractions with cars on a track. When a giant turtle breathed fire, there was hot air. When a giant spider shook its fangs, there was spittle. Yet the meticulous design of each, and the amount of immersion they provided differentiated them from the TikToks and movies that we saw every day. This was something different, something that felt real.
But we know it’s fake. We know the dragon is animatronics, the cartoon plumbers just men in costumes. But somehow we can suspend this disbelief when we’re in a theme park. Perhaps it’s because we’re paying for the magic, that our cynicism is reduced. We believe because we want to believe. Of course, the theme park has to do its part. Just like the direction, camerawork, and action have to entice us even though we already want to suspend our disbelief watching a movie, the same is true for theme parks. Everything from the music played at varying volumes across various parts of the park, the employees wearing uniforms appropriate to their attractions, the careful décor, the themed food, everything and anything except for the lines.
The specific attraction of amusement parks however, is that the type of experience is different from anything else easily available to us. After the banality of work and chores every day, we are left with mind-numbing electronic entertainment, the most accessible of which requires little input or socialization from our side. We sit and watch videos that we don’t have to think about or engage with, quick little laughs or cheap little thrills. Entertainment could also involve games with friends, or nights out. What our lives don’t contain however, are adventure into a new environment that forces us to engage with new sights, which is what amusement parks provide. Though amusement parks are expensive and tiring, they are significantly less so than a transatlantic trip. This is the sort of itch that Disney scratches, one that requires active participation and engagement. To enjoy the Tower of Doom, one has to read the signs and admire the art along the lineup. It necessitates paying attention to the videos explaining the history of the Tower, and then belief in the story they’re spinning. A stretch from a rerun of The Office.
The cherry atop all of this is the removal of electronics that are so omnipresent in our modern lives. Though most theme parks now provide Wi-Fi coverage across their properties, the sights and sounds of the parks endeavour to keep the guests locked into the environment, much like the apps on the phone they’re no longer pulling out. As a consequence, there’s forced reflection and socialization. Awareness of the little things going on around that wouldn’t otherwise be noticed. With nothing else to do but to look around and wait in line, there is nothing to do but socialize with the people you’ve come with.
All that taken together is a potent cocktail for the age. Moving from flat, addictive, electronic forms of entertainment to something physical that fulfills all the senses. The mandatory interaction with the environment, the thrill of experiencing something entirely new as a child does for the first time. The ensuing socializing from participating in this world of artifice, conversations about things real and imagined, abstract and tangible. That is the enduring appeal of theme parks, the experience that they sell, and the secret of their enduring appeal in the age of TikTok.
