
“No one approaches our classic attractions with more reverence than Disney Imagineers who take great care when refreshing beloved attractions."
-Marilyn Waters
Disney Imagineering Spokeswoman
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Disney Imagineering Spokeswoman
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Walt Disney chose children as a metaphor of humanity and innocence, and as a symbol of hope. Having discarded several unsatisfactory designs, he finally chose Mary Blair’s innocently simple dolls with distinct ethnic differences, but inescapable overriding similarities.
They introduce a perverse divisiveness diametrically opposed to the original import of the attraction. Once a select group of special privileged inhabitants of the World are distinctly identifiable Disney Stars, the remainder are necessarily relegated to the status of homogenous background bit players.
The Disney characters are, of course, one of the Company’s chief assets. But they are suffering homogenization, as the Grimm Brothers’ royals cavort with Minnie, Ariel and Jasmine in the Tween Spa Make-over Afternoons. Their insertion into A Small World is one more inappropriate and exploitive over-exposure.
Once the familiar “stars” invade Small World, the attraction loses its individuality. Guests are no longer transported into a unique festival of humanity, but find themselves in a continuation of the Fantasyland milieu of cartoon characters. The ride forfeits its distinct ambience and the park loses a singular different environment.
The ride as originally conceived gives both children and adults a thrilling vision of the possibility of an innocent and unified world at peace, and this theme is clearly confirmed in the farewell salute of "Pax" in many languages. Beneath the pretty gaiety of the attraction is a stirring, serious and inspiring metaphor and message of hope for a troubled globe. Once the ride is reduced to one more panorama of the much-exposed Disney stock company - now with a supporting cast of singing dolls in an incompatible design style - any unique, innocent and important concern is compromised by intrusive celebrity and imposed familiarity.
Inarguably her crowning achievement was the 1964 New York World’s Fair show “It’s a Small World”, which later moved to Disneyland where it’s been enchanting guests for more than 40 years. By this summer five versions will exist, the newest appearing in Hong Kong.
And in one of the most egregious and downright disgusting decisions in Disney theme park history, the gorgeous New Guinea rainforest scene, replete with some of Mary Blair’s most whimsical character creations (a crocodile with an umbrella, colorful birds hatching from eggs) and her drummer children with Tiki Masks on the opposite shore will be replaced with a Hooray for U.S.A sequence.
The insertion of Disney characters into this classic E-ticket is troubling enough. “It’s a Small World” may be a color and design masterpiece but more importantly the show’s simple message of shared humanity using children of the world and their innate innocence as the metaphor makes it a cultural touchstone and a casebook example of uncluttered visual storytelling. Cute as they may be, Belle, Mickey, Stitch or Nemo have nothing to do with selling the core values of UNICEF, the show’s original partner. Their appearance not only trivializes the central theme but more disturbingly seems to emphasize global brand marketing and franchising above all else.
When the attraction re-opens several months from now this salute to the children of the world will have turned into yet another guest search for hidden Mickeys, the earlier cleaner message all but lost on future generations. Here, also, is where Small World finally becomes yet another prelude to selling more plush, having now devolved into an elaborate hyper commercial window display, all charm and sincerity leeched from its bones.
And when the rainforest goes, it goes for good, replaced with a group of sets never intended for American audiences from the show’s very inception. In consciously excluding a large scale U.S.A.-land from It’s a Small World (a lone cowboy and indian in the finale was just enough), the original show writers were asking American audiences to step away from their own national consciousness and take stock in the wider world around them. It’s a Small World was never about nationalistic fervor. It was about finding our common humanity outside our own borders.
This is not a change at Disneyland to take lightly. Letters should go out to all corners of the company pleading for a halt to the desecration of Small World once and for all. A campaign to “Save Our Rainforest” is appropriate, one with tee-shirts, wristbands and a countdown clock. It’s safe to say that with enough of a hue and cry from those of us who actually pay the bills at W.D.I the company might do an about face. Fortunately this was a concept that was pitched to executives before Bruce Vaughn and Craig Russell took the reigns at Imagineering so there’s still room for hope.

The original Spaceship Earth was the result of the combined effort of countless artists--among them at least three certified geniuses: Buckminster Fuller, John Hench and the visionary poet Ray Bradbury. Bradbury is a true wordsmith; the man couldn’t write prose even if he wanted to. When he signs autographs, he writes a short extemporaneous poem. And if anyone doubts his visionary status, go back and read Fahrenheit 451. Bradbury warned us against the dangers of valuing immediate gratification (specifically via television) over the pursuit of knowledge (specifically via literature). The society that would result from such values was one which would treat each of its members as if they had the intellect and the curiosity of a lobotomized chimpanzee.
Bradbury wrote the original script for Spaceship Earth, but his carefully chosen words were dumbed down with each successive refurbishment. Spaceship Earth for Dummies now features Dame Judy Dench spouting such awkwardly transparent attempts to be relevant as “Rome built the first world wide web,” and a reference to the preservation of ancient texts as “the first back-up system.” Is it just me or did this remind anyone else of a well-meaning but dimwitted history teacher trying to relate to eighth graders? No offense to the talented actress in question. She didn’t write this stuff. But unfortunately neither did Bradbury. How much did they pay her to say, “Remember how easy it was to learn your ABCs?” The word “condescending” just isn’t strong enough; this language is insulting.
I’m afraid we’re going to have to go back and review the basics in order to address this foolishness properly. The next paragraph is solely directed at anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to have a go-go dancer working on a mainframe computer in an optimistic, uplifting, dramatic attraction. Everyone else please skip to the following paragraph.