mystique

Since its opening in 1967, Pirates of the Caribbean has stood as an anchor at Disneyland, a statement piece that has defined the direction of the park.

And that remained true last week when Walt Disney Imagineering unveiled a new audio-animatronic pirate. It’s wow-inducing. It’s also narrative-wrecking. And it fundamentally shifts the vibe of the attraction’s early scenes.

The high-tech pirate, we can bet, is just a small preview of the park’s next-gen toys. Because when changes come to Disneyland, they often hit Pirates of the Caribbean first. Over a half-century ago, the robotic figures of Pirates were a symbol of Disneyland’s technological ambitions, dazzling audiences with characterized but lifelike movements. With the ride, Disneyland made it clear that as the world advances, so, too, would the park.

As culture shifted and the lecherous buccaneers of the ride began to look more like symbols of sexual harassment, they would be forced to undergo some welcome personality adjustments. A redheaded victim of sex trafficking would transform into one of the ride’s most striking characters, and a number of rides from the Jungle Cruise to Splash Mountain would eventually undergo similar reassessment.

For Pirates of the Caribbean, after all, is the attraction that defined the Disneyland template. Its mastery is that it is a series of larger-than-life dioramas constructed around an abstracted narrative where themes of greed, lust and intemperance take precedence over a plot with a firm beginning, middle and end. And thus it made sense for Imagineering, the outfit of the company responsible for theme park experiences, to unveil its latest tech-driven master work on the ride.

A new animated pirate on Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean shifts from living to dead using projection technology.

(Todd Martens / Los Angeles Times)

Reaction, however, has been less than enthused. Disneyland’s own social media accounts are flooded with pointed critiques, but even if we consider that social media tends to lead with gripes, some of the park’s most ardent fan sites have referred to the reimagined scene as a gutting. Why so much hullabaloo over a single robot? If we allow that Disneyland is a place that generations make pilgrimages to, then Pirates of the Caribbean is its most sacred temple. Handle with care.

There is, of course, a series of stages most Disneyland fans go through with any major changes, and it’s usually one of shock or confusion followed by acceptance and eventually new nostalgia. And Disneyland’s recent attraction updates have by and large been winners, as evidenced by the lovely Tiana’s Bayou Adventure, the exploratory Adventureland Treehouse and the bewitching Snow White’s Enchanted Wish.

This one, however, is more complicated.

Where once was a foreboding skeleton frozen in time atop a treasure and swords, there is now an animated figurine built with the latest in projection technology. The latter transitions from living to dead, caught in a perpetual loop with each glimpse of the cavern’s “cursed treasure,” which it continually lifts and drops. The pirate is placed after the ride’s two dips in a gold-filled room among the winding, mysterious underground chambers that help set its tone.

Dead pirates fill the caverns of Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean.

(Todd Martens / Los Angeles Times)

Since the attraction’s opening, the only living beings in this portion were a lone seagull and maybe a stray sea critter or two. It is here where the mystique of Pirates of the Caribbean is set, and guests are placed in the active role of piecing together the time-shifting narrative. Story is hinted at rather than fed to us. We hear tales of the hexed fortunes found in the caves via ghostly narration, but see only its after-effects — skeletons locked in a chess battle or standing behind the wheel of a crumbling ship.

The centerpiece treasure room, where our new pirate is found, has long been a breathtaking scene. Previously, a now decayed body sat atop a mountain of wealth, an empty, soulless figure done in by selfish pride. It was disquieting, and a bit ghoulish. Stray, soft musical notes underscored the tragedy. Further on, a trapped pirate quietly transitions from living to dead via an old theatrical mirror illusion, and the boats float into a city filled with battles and buffoonery.

Gone is the subtlety. A somber tableau is now relatively loud, as our eyes no longer take in the full set but zero in on a bright and at times lively figurine. I cannot deny that it is an impressive piece of technology. On the multiple rides that I took Monday morning, I overheard two teens describe it as “pretty cool” and watched as a young child excitedly shouted to his mom and dad that the figure’s face was changing.

The caverns of Pirates of the Caribbean set a foreboding tone.

(Todd Martens / Los Angeles Times)

Such reactions are no doubt what Imagineering is hoping for. Part of the job of stewarding a classic attraction, after all, is ensuring it maintains an appeal to future generations. But I believe two things can be true. The new pirate may captivate some audiences and it can also stylistically and tonally clash with the attraction. This is the right tech, perhaps, for a more animated experience, one such as the in-development “Coco” ride coming to Disney California Adventure. Unfortunately, in Pirates it’s misplaced. Worse, it’s distracting, as we’re immediately drawn to its movement, grunts and quick-transitioning face.

I lament losing what was there. Projected figures, even the best of them, such as this one, are still media and can still gleam with light. And while the original Pirates of the Caribbean designs by Marc Davis were exaggerated, they were brought back to reality by Blaine Gibson, who sculpted them with bold, hardened features that made them at once heightened but believable. They may have been cartoonish, but they weren’t actual cartoons, and this figure is too much of a contrast, its comic-like excess feeling less relatable, less human. And that says nothing of its snort-like laughs, which reminded me too much of the huffs and puffs of the ride’s donkeys.

It also raises more story questions than it answers. Why, for instance, aren’t the other skeletons caught in a loop? Sometimes more is said by saying less, and this feller leans silly in a portion of the ride that calls for spooky. Ultimately, it just feels unnecessary, a symptom of our often exhausting, tech-obsessed, digital-drenched age where new, needless tools are shoved in our faces daily.

Thankfully, the rest of the attraction serves as a reminder that no computer wizardry can out-class old-school theater. Theme parks should evolve with the times, but sometimes it takes artful restraint to not mess with what’s already timeless.

This week in SoCal theme parks

• Disney California Adventure turns Soarin’ Over California into Soarin’ Across America. The makeover will be unveiled July 2, just in time for the Fourth of July holiday and the celebration of America’s semiquincentennial. While Soarin’ Across America is already open at Florida’s Walt Disney World and I’ve written about the patriotic re-imagining, I’ve waited to see it in the flesh and will have impressions next week.
• Fireworks! If you’re looking for them this weekend, our theme parks have got you covered. Disneyland, of course, has an annual Fourth of July show with patriotic music, and the park will be running “Disney’s Celebrate America! — A Fourth of July Concert in the Sky” Friday through Sunday. If you’re heading to Knott’s, be sure to check out the park’s free-to-visit Independence Hall, a replica of the Philadelphia landmark that will be offering guided tours Friday and Saturday, while Six Flags will feature fireworks Friday through Sunday. Universal Studios Hollywood will on Friday and Saturday debut a new Fourth of July-themed fireworks show.
• Shattered glass on Fast & Furious: Hollywood Drift. Fans are eagerly awaiting the opening of Universal Studios Hollywood’s new “Fast & Furious”-inspired coaster, and word spread via social media recently that a panel of glass on one of the ride’s sound barriers had shattered. Universal declined to comment, but sources familiar with the ride characterized it as an “installation error” that shouldn’t delay the public launch of the ride, which is expected by mid-summer. I reached out to California’s Division of Occupational Safety and Health’s Amusement Ride & Tramway Unit (Cal/OSHA), which monitors the state’s theme park attractions. A spokesperson said the situation was looked into but did not warrant further evaluation.
• Plan your perfect theme park day. The L.A. Times has unveiled a new feature. Now you can save must-try spots from our local guides and build your own personalized list. Or perhaps you’d like to browse my mega-project “Every Southern California theme park ride, ranked” and create an itinerary for your next visit.

Tell us your stories. Ask us your questions.

Have a theme park tale to share? Whether it was a good day or less-than-perfect day, I would love to hear about it. Have a question? A tip? A fun photo from the parks to share? Email me at todd.martens@latimes.com. I may feature your note in an upcoming newsletter.

Ride on,

Todd Martens

P.S.

Visitors tie paper tags bearing wishes onto trees in the courtyard of the Broad as part of an exhibition dedicated to Yoko Ono.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

Theme parks often are about the power of imagination, allowing us to play pretend in heightened, alternate worlds. And I had theme parks on my mind while I traversed the Broad’s excellent current exhibit dedicated to Yoko Ono.

What, perhaps you wonder, does Ono have to do with theme parks? “Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind” documents the entirety of the artist’s career, and much of her early work centers on play. Real, philosophical play, essentially the idea that through creativity, fantasy and a bit of silliness, we can all see the world differently.

Whether it was communicating with her audience while in a bag (1964’s “Bag Piece”), an antecedent to Meow Wolf’s “Experience Tube,” or offering instructions to count stars, tally our wrinkles, drop off peas on a morning walk, attach wishes to a tree or create fictional maps of our neighborhoods, much of Ono’s career was dedicated toward building community and connections through playfulness and imagination.

It’s freeing work, and a reminder that a little frivolity via participatory art — and that’s really what theme parks and so-called immersive entertainment provide — is a necessary ingredient for happiness.