Monday, August 16, 2010

Amoeba in the Sky


"The big thing is “ yes if ” consulting—the “ yes, if ” message and not “no, because.” “Yes, if ” tells you what you can do with a project if you make changes—“no, because” just kills it."   
Harrison "Buzz" Price     
Buzz Price was a pioneer.   He was a numbers man, an economist, and an unlikely contributor to Walt Disney's dreamy scheme for a family-friendly amusement park.  But just like the artists and craftspeople that Walt challenged his entire career, Buzz Price wasn't hamstrung by silly things like "job descriptions" and deference to purported experts and specialists.   The people busy devising this happy place knew they were inventing something decidedly different.   Even in those nascent Disneyland days, it was clear that they were the only experts, learning what they knew on the fly.

There's nothing I can say about Buzz Price that hasn't been said.  I met the guy precisely once.  It was brief and good natured, but nothing remarkable (actually, it was really remarkable for me). 

But Buzz's story, his "quick and dirty" analysis, and his "yes if" approach to a project's challenges have been a real inspiration, ever since I read his autobiography, Walt's Revolution: By the Numbers.   It's a sweeping story, one you owe yourself a couple of passes through.  Buzz craftily stitches seemingly-disconnected events, changing market forces, and a cast of hundreds into a single, very human story about an unlikely guy with a quick brain, a thirst for knowledge, and an amazing work ethic.  

Buzz brought meaning to a world of random dynamics.  He created tools, processes, and a new vocabulary to filter and share all of this. 

It's a testament to the quality and the foresight of Buzz's work that the concepts he invented and employed are used by theme park developers just as frequently as other innovations--like animatronics, high-capacity ride systems, and single-ticket attractions--that sprouted up at the same time.   Actually, the work Buzz did is far more influential and pervasive.  It long ago extended beyond theme parks.   Zoos, museums, retail, dining destinations, and countless other forms of "dimensional entertainment" have all put Buzz's good work to use.

Thanks for everything you created, Buzz.  And, especially, thanks for taking the time to reflect on what it meant and writing that down for shlubs like me to learn from.  Farewell.


 

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Princess Theory

Breakfast with my son in Cinderella Castle.  Someone share this picture with the Disney guys next time the Fantasyland Forest project comes up.


Baxter was watching Return of the Jedi on my phone. It has a princess, too.
But she was dressed as a slave girl and coked out.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Supercal-atrocious

You ever go into something believing you're going to be disappointed?   And so you compensate by dialing your expectations way down.

It's something I do quite often. And it usually works. Some of my fondest experiences--the best films I've seen, the best meals I have eaten, my favorite family events--have been a result of artifically-deflated anticipation. I call it the Law of Dimished Expectations.

I mention this because yesterday, my youngest kid and I did a little dad-and-son outing to catch the touring version of Disney Theatrical's Mary Poppins. Being that Mary Poppins is my favorite film EVER, and given the mixed reviews I'd read since the show made its West End debut in 2004, I knew that this was a job for The Law of Diminished Expectations.

Somehow, I was still let down.

The poster is nice...
Mary Poppins, the Broadway musical, is lavish. It has some stunning set pieces. The YMCA-on-crack choreography in the "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" is amazingly frenetic. Bert's upside down tap dance as he goes "over the rooftops" during the "Step in Time" number is riciculously delicious.  And Mary Poppins' final flight over the audience is, honestly, magical.

But those good points have a hard time outweighing the negatives. Because this is a show that is miserable in its pointlessness. It's all over the place, dabbling in borrowed elements from the Disney film, elements that I presume to be gleaned from PL Travers' original work, and newly contrived sequences that detract from the whole affair.

In this Cameron Mackintosh Poppins, we find a lot of familiar elements.   Mary Poppins looks like you remember her from the film.   Bert too, albeit maybe a slighter version than Dick Van Dyke's lanky jack-of-all-trades.   And many of the film's most recognizable songs are woven throughout.  The show's producers had no problem mining the film for those hooks that audiences would know.

Sadly, the same team decided to put their own creative stamp on Poppins.  Jane and Michael Banks are an inexcusably shrill pair of children, doomed to live in an "Upstairs/Downstairs" world complete with servant-angst, a heart-broken mother, and a spineless father. The audience is forced to contend with useless information about all these characters, sorting through exposition that does nothing to enhance the experience. Who cares that Mrs. Banks is a former actress, or that Mr. Banks faces hard decisions in his work life, or that Miss Brill dusts an expensive vase?

Mary Poppins is only a practically perfect film. It is a little too long, it meanders at times, and its visual effects are uneven at times. But what the film Poppins has is two things that transcend its flaws: clarity and heart.

It's a shame that the Broadway Poppins is a complicated mess.   And worse, it is too cool for sincerity.  

Walt knew that audiences are not afraid of emotion.  Too bad Broadway couldn't figure that one out when they went monkeying with one of his greatest productions.


Practically perfect




Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy Birthday (to me)

What better way to celebrate 38 years on Earth than with a karaoke party and some hard drinking pals!

Thanks, gang.   (And thanks for the picture, Holy Juan)

Lia, me, and those vagabond blues...

Friday, February 12, 2010

BEACHED MERMAIDS





Dateline Disneyland: 1965-1967. Young "maidens" were recruited to perform as mermaids in Disneyland's Submarine Lagoon.

Today, this kind of public display might generate some pretty intense reactions.  You'd have your fundamentalist furor.  You'd also get guys folding up singles longways, standing at the lagoon railing waiting for a lap dance.

Maybe things weren't all that different forty years ago. Legend has it that the mermaids were flushed down Disneyland's drain after one-too-many male guests fell victim to the sirens' song.  Those poor men lept into the lagoon, looking for love in all the wrong places.

(Of course, there are other accounts that suggest that the mermaids' extinction was caused by the intense amount of chlorine used in the Submarine Lagoon.  Seems these poor fish-girls got all dried out. Ewwww.)

Living here the future, there's something very innocent and playful about the whole affair. And sexy, too.

Walt, you were a genius!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Pee #3 - PLACE

So what do I mean by Place? Consider the previous analogy, where Purpose is potency and Passion is romance. After all this sweaty-palms stuff, what do you have left?
For a lot of people, the answer is a resounding "nothing." But for others, this answer is, well, something--a relationship. It usually isn't what you'd expect. Maybe it's a lifetime of resentment and misery, or a quiet sort of contentment. For a lucky few, it's a neverending good time.
Inevitably, if there is a "relationship," the people involved find their place. In much the same way, great attractions find their Place too.
Place isn't about location, though location certainly plays a role. Take Rock City, for example. Located in Chattanooga, TN, this is one of those quintessential American establishments, a mom-and-pop roadside attraction that opened in 1932, in the midst of the Great Depression.




Rock City: High Atop Lookout Mountain


Back in its early days, Rock City was a scenic stop that included a hike to the top of Lookout Mountain, where Frieda Carter (wife of Garnet Carter, inventor of Tom Thumb Golf) had created a bucolic trek through natural and contrived rock formations. From this vantage point visitors could purportedly "see seven states."


Blame Global Warming...the most I've ever seen is four!

Rock City is picturesque, idiosyncratic, and a work of love. But plenty of attractions have the same attributes. What sets Rock City apart--what gives it Place--is the way it has positioned itself as this quirky, curious stop along I-75. It seems like everyone has heard of it. For some reason Rock City rises above other highway diversions.
Why? It's hard to tell. Certainly part of it is attributable to the 70-year old campaign of painting barns across the USA with the famous "See Rock City" slogan. But as importantly, Rock City delivered the goods for all those people who ventures from the Interstate...the anxious moms, the weary dads, all those high-strung kids who had been pent up in cars for hours on end, even the grandmas looking for birdfeeders and souvenir spoons.


One of the most successful marketing campaigns: The Rock City Barn!

What does it deliver? Rock City is a sweet, almost anachronistic oasis from the stress of highway travel. As it has grown, its retained its eccentricity. Nestled among Frieda's original rock garden are caverns with weird 50's-era day-glo storybook scenes. Ladies dressed like Mother Goose greet kids and a robot gnome acts as a barker at the entrance. For the Northerners making the pilgrimage to (or from) Orlando, this is the anti-Disney, devoid of corporate artifice and brand promotion. It just feels honest.
That's the Place that Rock City occupies. It's not just that it's a welcome respite from the noise. Rock City is trusted and it delivers. Folks know going in that this place has served generations of travelers just like them.

Circling back on the "Pee #1 -Purpose" post, we have Disneyland. You can argue that the Purpose of this attraction has drifted from Walt's original family park vision and today is something less certain, less definable. To many, Disneyland appears to have consciously violated its founding principle, adding big-budget thrill rides that deliberately split the family, forcing short guests, frail guests, and timid guests into backwater attractions.


Disneyland's Grad Nite--a tame but non-family affair--appeared in 1961.

Though some folks may think that such criticism is unfair, Disneyland's Purpose isn't entirely obvious. That said, Disneyland's PLACE is cemented. It is this legacy attraction. It has entertained millions of people for almost six decades. It is safe. It is all-American. For many families with kids, it is a rite of passage. For locals, it is almost like a neighborhood attraction, a place to go with friends or on a date. For people around the world, Disneyland is a place they trust (even if they don't trust the country it is located in), a place where they expect to be entertained in ways no one else can. Disneyland is an American landmark.

Place is about the relationship an attraction has with its audience. A Great Attraction successfully defines that relationship and in the process creates its Place.

Many attractions fail because the relationship they set out to create never takes hold. Like some lovelorn teenager, their efforts go unacknowledged.

Other attractions, with a history of success and an established Place, attempt to redefine the relationship, upping the ante, showing up one afternoon with a toothbrush and asking for a key to their girlfriend's apartment.

Sometimes this works, as it did when Walt Disney World added its EPCOT Center in 1982, hoping and praying that guests would be hungry for another day of Disney theme park-ing. That gamble resulted in the Mouse's Florida property becoming a multi-day destination in the minds of folks who otherwise considered the Magic Kingdom a drop-in-for-a-day park.

It seems that just as often, an attempt to redefine Place is refused by the audience. Disney's attempt to repeat its Florida success with the addition of Disney's California Adventure is an easy example. But it can certainly happen on a more local scale.

Consider COSI from "Pee#2 - Passion." This was a joint that was loved in its community. But a high-profile move into a colossal Arata Isozaki building, a completely new collection of whiz-bang exhibits, and (perhaps most importantly) a 60% increase in admission costs resulted in a huge backlash. The folks that COSI had established a relationship with didn't know what to expect from this new thing. It took COSI the better part of a decade to recast that relationship with a newfound commitment to partnerships with local and regional organizations who share a common purpose.

Establishing an attraction's Place is not easy, but it is essential to Greatness. Once that Place is found, it can still be bobbled and lost.