Armchair Imagineering: Five Disney Movies That Absolutely Should Have Been Tapped For Rides By Now, So Why Haven't They?

I think the title about says it all.

Okay, fine, I'll write a proper intro.

It can be instructive to examine which Disney films get tie-in rides (or other major attractions, as opposed to character meet-and-greets, parade units, etc.) and which ones don't. Quite some time ago, I grumped about how the Pixar movies get the gold star treatment in the parks, while the films of the Disney Renaissance that actually pulled the animation studio back to the prominence it has enjoyed for a solid generation are largely ignored. The so-called Golden and Silver Ages are well-represented, naturally, while the less-ambitious projects of the Sixties and Seventies are mostly sidelined. Lately, the high-profile live-action IPs Disney has bought are getting the lion's share of the attention from WDI.

The facts are what they are, but I'm sure we can all think of movies that we wish had been turned into rides, but which have been rather inexplicably skipped so far. Here are five of mine, in no particular order.

Okay, fine, in chronological order of release.

Source Materials: The Wildlife of Primeval World

If you enjoy my Sentimental Paleontology posts, you'll love this one—it's about actual paleontology! Dinosaurs, man! Who doesn't love dinosaurs?

I love dinosaurs. And that's why I've always had a special place in my heart for the Primeval World Diorama. You can keep your Fun Facts^TM about the New York World's Fair and the Ford Magic Skyway and the world record for the longest diorama display. All that stuff is important, but it pales in comparison to the simple fact that: Dinosaurs.

But are they...accurate dinosaurs? No. No they are not. We can get that out of the way right off the bat. The Primeval World diorama contains animatronic figures built in the mid-60s, many of them riffing off an animated movie that came out in 1940. At best, they reflect the paleontological consensus of the times, filtered through the sensibilities of animators and other artists who were not necessarily scientifically literate, let alone scientists.

So just how bad is it? Let's find out. While grinning like an eight-year-old at the Natural History Museum, because dinosaurs.

Imagineering Theory: 10 Rules to Live By

Hey there, all you Armchair Imagineers! Tired of following current trends in theme park design? Does the current wisdom seem not-so-wise? Want your theme park ideas to pop?

The solution is here! Just follow these ten simple, obvious, incredibly important so why don't actual theme parks follow them much anymore I ask you rules, and watch the quality of your Armchair Imagineering soar to new heights!

Source Materials: The Shape of Land

Before we begin, I would like to note that I titled this post before The Shape of Water won Best Picture. That is all.

Let's talk for a bit about theme park layouts.

One of the often-praised aspects of Disneyland, especially in terms of its innovation when it was new, is the hub-and-spoke design plan that makes navigating from theme to theme so intuitive. (It also has potential mystical significance, but that's literally a topic for another post.) This model is so successful that it became iconic and has been re-used for every “Kingdom” park built since.

Of course, it's not the only way to organize a theme park. For example, Epcot's World Showcase and Universal Islands of Adventure both arrange their attractions around a central body of water, with the main pathway a long loop. The result is picturesque, but a bit more tiresome to traverse than a hub-and-spoke since there's (usually) no way to cut across the middle. I don't know of any examples, but a park could be built in a fan shape, with the themed areas radiating directly from the entrance. A park emphasizing exploration and discovery could use winding paths that branch and intersect.

And then there are the parks that are...how to put this nicely...not really organized at all. Universal Studios Hollywood* is a big offender here. There are all kinds of logical ways to subdivide a theme based on the glamor and excitement of the movies, and USH uses none of them, slapping down whatever, wherever. But I can't be too hard on its designers—the place is built into the side of a hill. A steep hill. With major streets and freeways wrapped around the base. They gotta work within the limitations imposed by the local topography.

You know which park's designers I might criticize for their slapdash approach? California Adventure. They had complete freedom to work within a parcel of flat land that was comparable in size to Disneyland itself and preconditioned for construction. And what did they give us with that freedom? An irregular elongated blob, grossly lopsided with the respect to the location of the entrance, with little sense of “flow” between the various themes.

Is there any sense to this layout at all? The strange thing is...there might be.