Greg Maletic
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Who was Walt Disney?
Creating a new work environment? Showcasing the
American free enterprise system? Was this the same Walt Disney who had brought
us The Three Little Pigs and Pollyanna? And what about this
strange, final film that Disney produced? Why would someone known the world over
as an artistic and creative genius dream of a city whose most prominent
attributes were its transportation systems, completely neglecting any of the
aesthetics or fun of the place?
The answer, I think, is that there's a fundamental misunderstanding of what Walt Disney was actually good at. In his book The Disney Version, Richard Schickel gives his contrarian view of Disney's skills:
[After Walt Disney's death in 1966] the Los Angeles Times' obituary editorial speculated that Disney's "real joy must have come from seeing the flash of delight sweep across a child's face and hearing his sudden laughter, at the first sight of Mickey Mouse, or Snow White or Pinocchio." Certainly the sight did not make him unhappy, but the Times' own biographical sketch, appearing in the same edition, carried a more nearly true statement from Disney himself on the source of his deepest satisfaction in his later years. A reporter once asked him, according to the piece, to name his most rewarding experience, and Disney's reply was blunt and brief: "The whole damn thing. The fact that I was able to build an organization and hold it…"
These are clearly not the words of some kindly old uncle who just loves to come to your child's birthday party and do his magic tricks and tell his jokes and find his kicks in the kiddies' laughter and applause and their parents' gratitude. Neither do they appear to bear much resemblance to anything we might expect from an artist looking back over his career. They represent, instead, the entrepreneurial spirit triumphant. They are the words of a man who has struggled hard to establish himself and his product; who has fought his way in from the fringes of his chosen industry to its center; who has gambled his own money and his own future on his own innovative inspirations and organizational intelligence and more than once has come close to losing his whole bundle. (Schickel, p. 38)
I think Schickel is half-right: in many ways, Disney was less an artist than most people give him credit for. But I think a more accurate description of what he was--rather than being just a skilled entrepreneur (which he certainly was)--is that Disney was a technology fanatic with the skills of a showman. He loved immersing himself in new technologies, and adored fashioning them into more accessible forms in order to share his joy with those less inclined to see their innate potential. How else to explain why someone who supposedly loved making films lost all personal interest in filmmaking once its most obvious technological challenges--sound, color, and stereo--had been surmounted? Why someone who supposedly loved animation turned away from the art form he'd popularized once he'd elevated it to as high a level as it could technically achieve? Why the man who supposedly wanted nothing more than to delight the children of the world with his amusement parks would be content to simply copy his California park to a new Florida location in order to turn his attention toward the transportation ills of cities?
My point, of course, is not that Disney disliked movies, animation, amusement parks, or delighting children. He almost certainly adored all of this. But I'm not sure that any of these things lie at the heart of what Disney was truly about.
With his invention of Mickey Mouse, intellectuals crowned Disney an entertainment genius. With Snow White and Pinocchio, they went further: they elevated him to the status of an artistic genius. Unfortunately, that designation was short-lived, and died with the release of his next few films. According to its critics, Fantasia's simple-minded conception of classical music showed after all that Disney wasn't the sophisticate they'd thought him to be. Bambi furthered that impression, they said, by proving him too sentimental and pandering. After watching the Florida Project film, it's hard for me to escape the conclusion that with EPCOT, Disney saw his opportunity to once again be taken seriously. With Disneyland--just as he had done with Snow White twenty years earlier--Disney had built not just a brilliant toy, but a more meaningful work that drew applause from many of the intelligentsia whose approval had been so elusive throughout Disney's later career.
The Florida Project film shows Disney building upon his newfound success as a creator of urban spaces and steering clear of the entertainment formulas he'd already perfected. The quote by urban planner James Rouse, mentioned frequently in Disney literature ("I hold a view that may be somewhat shocking to an audience as sophisticated as this: that the greatest piece of urban design in the United States today is Disneyland…") is featured prominently early in the film's narration. Why include this? Without this endorsement, Disney obviously worried that he wouldn't be taken seriously. The film spends not a second describing how creative, entertaining, and beautiful the new Disneyworld will be, words you and I would most likely use to describe a Disney development. Rather, its design breakthroughs, importance--and ultimately, its great influence on the rest of society--are the only attributes that make the cut. EPCOT was his chance to both bolster his reputation and leverage on the intellectual working capital he'd been handed by those who saw more in Disneyland than a mere amusement park.
Viewed in this light, the EPCOT in the Florida Project film isn't the paradox that it first seemed to me to be. It's the next technological wonder brought to you by Walt Disney, like sound cartoons or color television programs. The real Walt Disney, I think, had more in common with Steve Jobs than Steven Spielberg, more a showman than a filmmaker.
Conclusion
Walt Disney's EPCOT is going to remain an
intellectual curiosity forever. It won't be built, or at least, won't be built
in any form that resembles the city showcased in the Florida Project film. And
given the problems the city might have faced (we can see them crop up in small
scale in the town of Celebration) maybe it's better that way.
Still, when I watch the EPCOT film or think back to the "Progress City" model in Tomorrowland, it's easy to see why someone would want to live there, and it's impossible to fault Walt Disney for trying to create it. Maybe he was cleverer than I give him credit for and he would have pulled off something amazing even in the face of overwhelming odds. Certainly Walt Disney accomplished more impossible things in his life than most have; maybe his city of the future would be just another of those unlikely achievements.
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-- Greg Maletic
Greg Maletic is the Chief Technical Officer and co-founder of Zero G Software, as well as being a life-long Disney park fan. Greg is currently producing the documentary The Future of Pinball about the decline of the pinball industry, to be released later this year. E-mail Greg with questions or comments at [email protected].
Kim's Corner is not posted on a regular schedule
The opinions expressed by our Greg Maletic, and all of our columnists, do not necessarily represent the feelings of LaughingPlace.com or any of its employees or advertisers. All speculation and rumors about the future plans of the Walt Disney Company are just that - speculation and rumors - and should be treated as such.
-- Posted June 3, 2003