The human brain can only operate so fast before complete sensory overload. A set number of facts, set number of pictures, colors, sounds, reflexes. Daily life has each and every one of us encounter stimuli at a rate that in numerical form would be quite astounding. Thirteen milliseconds is the amount of time the brain takes to process a single piece of information, meaning that within even a second, a multitude of information can be processed within requiring at least basic effort. Too much information to analyze within this time causes the aforementioned mentioned sensory overload. That is why it is crucial to concisely make a point while preventing the brain from running away with itself.
In each of the Disney Parks, designers must overcome two barriers. Individuals have to accept the possibility that the fantasy world is obviously not reality can be real, and they must do so blindly with absolutely no reciprocated denial. Because of this, it is crucial that analysis of new surroundings be quick and easy, with absolutely no distraction to deter audiences from accepting what has been put in front of them. Arguably the way that WDI has attempted to counter this feat is to rely strictly on immersion and detail. Throwing the audience into a world that is so detailed and has such a deep backstory that the brain instinctively follows along, if not because they are on vacation. The bias to get one’s money’s worth clouds most skepticism, but this comes at a price (no pun intended). Rarely do audiences receive a lasting ignorance to what is reality, uttering phrases like “I can’t believe they designed it like that” or other phrases that do respect the work put into the decor, but understand that it was both man made and designed to create immersion within the borders of the park, not to maintain the long lasting effect.
The best way to understand this difference is through case study and understanding what works and what does not. Relating separate areas or design choices in the Disney Parks to the biology of a human brain allows us to understand what works and what does not. It allows us to understand what we choose to analyze using those thirteen milliseconds. Most of all, it helps define the mentality of WDI and the reasons why the parks are not the same (for better or for worse.)
What We’ve Lost: The Court of Angels
Probably the most prominent example I have to offer, the Court of Angels was a subsection of New Orleans Square in the Disneyland park that, while not behind closed doors in its heyday, was in such a corner of the park that it was rarely inhabited. Even with the incredible crowd sizes Disneyland faces on a daily basis, the court was rarely filled to capacity. Studded with topiaries, windows, and shutters, this was the only area in New Orleans Square in which guests were, for the most part, within 3 walls (nearly 4 in actually). Guests were confined to a space that while small, was detailed to the point where one would have a difficult time taking a picture of the real thing in Louisiana and differentiating between the two.
With all these details, with all the comparison to the real world and the culture that exists, guests can find themselves overtaken with information. When a guest has too much to think about they will most likely move onto something easier to digest. Right next door is a the Haunted Mansion, which is easily more interesting at first glance compared to a set of stairs. Simply walking into the court does the guest little good, but it’s the auditory response they receive when they wait a few seconds which drives the immersion.
Silence. Absolute Silence.
Guests find themselves with little distraction to deter them from thinking about anything but what they see. The smells from the next door cafe, the colors surrounding them in every single direction, and the solitude they experience as they entered the cramped space are effects of pure immersion. The ability to think can sometimes go for granted, but silence provides for a setting that allows for this independent thought. Entering the Court itself is an experience, but taking in the surroundings for oneself is very difficult to do in the common climate of a theme park. But even a first viewer of the Court could understand the complexity of what is being shown if only because they have time to think about it.
One of the most popular images of the Court before its closure was taken during a 24 hour day at Disneyland park in which guests at the latest hours of the night had taken refuge in the Court, using it as a spot to take a well needed break. The spot had seen little activity the entire day, and because of such it saw a surge in interest when it came time to find a place for sleeping. The dimly lit nature of New Orleans Square at night pulled guests from the setting of a theme park into the world of New Orleans after a night of partying.
Eventually time caught up with the Court and it was closed to the public. It became an entrance to the exclusive (and elusive) Club 33, while being gated off to average guests of the park. What had previously been a quiet and quaint corner of the park had now become an exclusive entrance to a restaurant that the average person could not enter let alone afford. What had previously been a place of individual experience is now a lavish entrance to the most exclusive club in a Disney park.
What is left of New Orleans Square is a loud and bustling hub of French decor and New Orleans jazz. What is neglected is the small corners of New Orleans in Louisiana. The uninhabited corners nestled in the furthest reaches of the city. Taking a break from the party can lead to a moment of self actualization, something that is lost by the removal of the Court of Angels.
What We Have: Storybook Circus Pathway to Tomorrowland
This example is a bit more personal in nature, but stands as an overlooked example of quiet transition in Walt Disney World.
As a guest proceeds into Storybook Circus, they soon realize that it is a mess of children screaming, loud blaring sounds from every which direction, and onslaughts of water from the nearby playground. It soon becomes obvious that Storybook Circus was a land made exclusively for the younglings and the energy each child inherits. In the blaring heat of summer in Orlando, the energy of young children is not necessarily the cornerstone of a relaxing vacation.
As one moves towards the train station, past the water playground and near the Great Goofini, an observant guest will notice that, on the horizon, Tomorrowland with its bustling energy catches the eye. In Between you and the future is a small, linear path along part of the perimeter of the park. On the guest’s left is a lush patch of glass lined with towering lines of trees that at first glance offer a cozy “hug” of sorts as one moves past the colorful Fantasyland to the slick Tomorrowland.
Rarely do you find a guest or two lined in this pathway during the off season, as it is nowhere near anything of value. Guests are often funneled from Tomorrowland to the Tea Cups into the Circus, and the reverse rather than taking the perimeter walk. But to those who decide to take the path less beaten, they will find a moment of solitude, where one can walk down the path reflecting on the land they had been before while being accustomed to the land they are headed to. A moment of individual reflection, or even a jovial walk down a straightaway where one does not fear the looks of other patrons or packed nature of the park goes a long way.
Sadly, during the summer, the area falls victim to the worst problem the Disney Parks are facing. Smoking individuals congregate in masses in this one area (as nearly every other smoking station has been closed) and turn it into a cloud of toxic fumes. Just like the Court of Angels, the normal individual can no longer explore this area as their own, as they must avoid it for their own health. Children cannot share a quiet memory with their parents, one that they would remember for years to come given the secluded nature of the area, as the inability to breathe is more important.
But on those off season days, the days where one can approach Tomorrowland from a “secret” path and enter a new world from a rarely visited corner, the path becomes an integral part of the park. An additional way to see a place you’ve been before. Opening your eyes to the intricacies of the park while keeping you in a perfectly designed circle.
Departing from the animosity and craze of a theme park to admire the surroundings without any outside influence creates full immersion, and a break before more experiences. A moment to reflect on the childish nature of Fantasyland before entering the promise held within Tomorrowland. Gradually allowing the audience to become individually accustomed to a new idea while reminiscing on a previous one. Slow, gradual, and calm movement allows for a seamless transition rather than one that feels forced. Following the masses down a set path can lead to a sense of tiredness, feeling that you’re following a set path that everyone else must follow. This does not make for an individual experience nor does it allow one to process their surroundings as they must move with the traffic, foregoing necessary detail. Especially in Walt Disney World, silence can go a long way.
Conclusion:
The most precious aspect to immersion and design is the time it takes to make a claim, and how easily that claim can be accepted. To do this requires deep surroundings and to immerse oneself in the world now developed. It’s incredibly easy to misinterpret immersion factors as the amount of detail put into the design, rather it is the susceptibility of the audience to fall into the proverbial trap and become enveloped in a man-made idea as if it was true to reality. The human brain can only process so many different things in a short amount of time. Because of this many designers have to work hard to pack an area with enough detail to be immersive but intelligently enough so that viewers can take it in while maintaining individuality of thought and experience.
Within thirteen milliseconds, the brain must decide what is important and what is simply background information. Anything that diverts attention can sacrifice important time that could be better used immersing an audience to its surroundings.
As enthusiasts of theme parks and other design masterpieces, it is crucial to understand the nature of thought and how it affects each and every guest’s experience. The importance of a quiet moment defines the intricacies of WDI design, and design in general. We as humans can only analyze so much in a given moment, and the ability to use those moments to create an unforgettable experience is something that only Disney Parks can do, cementing them as cornerstones of entertainment.
