welcome to themerica™ :: an MFA design thesis by dave gottwald :: academy of art university

my last stop in the los angeles area before heading home was the tam o’shanter inn. this famous scottish pub has the distinction of being los angeles’ oldest restaurant operated by the same family in the same location.

i wasn’t even aware of the significance of the place, thematically, until i read the short entry about it in chris nichols’ fantastic book, the leisure architecture of wayne mcallister. the subject of the book himself is a noteworthy early practitioner of thematic design; the tam o’shanter was mentioned only in passing because mcallister was called in at some point to enlarge and remodel the restaurant.

what caught my eye reading about mcallister was a small, seemingly insignificant fact—the tam o’shanter was walt disney’s favorite los angeles restaurant dating back to the earliest days of his animation studio.

why would walt like this one restaurant so much that his studio regularly donated art to hang on its walls? it was enough to intrigue me to stop by.

as it turns out, the tam o’shanter inn has a long history, and it provides one of the earliest examples of twentieth century thematic design. the general manager was kind enough to allow me to take numerous photos photos of the interior, and provided me with a history write-up that they give to patrons. from the handout:

“in june, 1922, walter van de kamp and his son-in-law, lawrence l. frank partnered with restaurateur joe montgomery to co-found a quaint restaurant and roadside stop. initially called ‘montgomery’s country inn’ the name was changed to the tam o’shanter in 1925.”

there is a nice display cabinet in the entrance lobby to the restaurant, showcasing many old photographs and assorted memorabilia from over the years. the tam o’shanter name, incidentally, comes from the poem by robert burns (1759–1796), widely considered to be the national poet of scotland.

you would think, given the decor, that this place is just another pub-style restaurant and bar.

typical exposed dark wood beams, white walls, large stuffy armchairs and heraldry crests fill the interior, giving it the proper “old englishness” of the british isles.

indeed, the requisite red public telephone booth stands outside.

yet the most fascinating feature of the tam is its creator; the initial design of the then-named montgomery’s country inn (before wayne mcallister’s remodel and expansion) was done by harry oliver—humorist, artist, and academy award nominated art director of films from the 1920s and 1930s.

that’s right—a hollywood art director. oliver never received formal training in architecture. he began his career in 1911 as a set painter and then later as a set dresser (having never even gone to art school; oliver was a grade school dropout). his expertise, in the words of cecil b. demille biographer robert birchard, was “atmospheric settings and controlled environments…one of oliver’s specialties was recreating really believable exterior locations.” and in this, oliver didn’t even use a formal crew, preferring instead movie studio carpenters.

despite having no formal training, harry oliver is credited as one of the major practitioners of storybook style, a fanciful cottage design in which angles are askew and window panes crooked. structures he designed in this vein were the original van de kamp bakery windmill (which became the chain’s signature landmark), as well as famous los angeles residences such as the willat-spadena witch house.

it’s hard to beat this description of the tam’s storybook style from the leisure architecture of wayne mcallister: “…a series of undulating, lopsided, eaveless cupolas with a gnarled walking stick rising from the center. stone and stucco with storybook shingle interiors were dark with heavy half timbers supporting medieval iron chandeliers.”

the exterior of the tam has been remodeled many times since, but the initial design seen in this picture from the 1930s shows the fairy-tale influence; tree trunk and branch columns, topsy-turvy roof lines, knotted wood, wrought iron flourishes and homely chimneys.

the original dining room (since remodeled) was fashioned by oliver to echo hansel and gretel’s “witch’s house.”

all the wood has a wonderfully weathered feeling. almost blackened. owner lawrence l. frank, who hired harry oliver for the job, once explained that “every piece of wood which was used in [building the tam] was thrown into fire first with the result that we never had to paint it and it got more beautiful as the years went by.”

today the overall motif would probably be associated with something like the lord of the rings films—a small country cottage for trolls. one of the few remaining original exterior features is the central cupola.

i can only wonder what walt disney thought as he dined here nearly every week during the 1930s, 40s and 50s. i’m guessing (no matter how good the food was), he found the environment positively narrative-rich. the tam is a building straight out of the head of a motion pictures set designer, not a formally trained architect. this would be the exact approach walt would employ when building his dream park—hiring film people like harry oliver.

not limited only to fairy-tales, this early thematic designer was also fascinated by spanish california and the old southwest. oliver designed, directed and produced gold gulch,  a 21-acre 1850s old west mining camp replica that was the largest concession at the 1935-1936 california pacific international exposition in san diego. he even consulted on knott’s berry farm’s original ghost town themed area, but it’s rumored that walter knott dismissed his designs for being to fanciful and not a serious enough re-creation.

harry oliver’s place in the lineage of thematic design can’t be understated; he essentially introduced the coming overlap between cinema and architecture. this was an informal cross-pollination in which those accustomed to conceptualizing the temporary, fantasy worlds of film sets turned their talents towards constructing permanent, real-world environments.

the tam o’shanter inn must have captured walt disney’s imagination, because it embodies all the creative principles that he codified when he hired art directors from twentieth century fox like marvin davis and bill martin to make his disneyland vision of a unified, immersive thematic environment, a reality.

as such, the tam is a historical landmark of thematic design.

originally, the only retail districts i had planned on visiting while in southern california were jerde’s citywalk and the grove, but an email from instructor hunter wimmer at my university alerted me to rick caruso’s latest development, americana at brand.

located in glendale, just north of downtown los angeles, americana at brand opened this past may to rave reviews. it continues the main street U.S.A. packaged nostalgia design embodied by the grove before it.

unlike the grove, americana at brand does not purport to be inspired by any particular time and place, and as such it has a more genericized retro sensibility.

many of the art deco architectural flourishes are nearly identical however, such as the barnes and noble signage.

it all seems even more detailed than the grove, though. notice the delicate, stylized roofline.

rather than a central avenue at caruso’s first nostalgic outdoor mall, the americana at brand is a square with a semi-hub-and-spoke radial design.

like the grove (and disneyland), a street trolley car navigates the loop, offering free rides (which are very popular, by the looks of the cue).

in the center of the loop is a green space, with a children’s playset, plenty of grass, and a small bandstand offering free entertainment.

this is flanked by a large movie theater, just like at the grove, on one side.

some of the vendor buildings around this park nod to tavern on the green in central park, new york city—as well as to cities like paris and vienna.

the water fountains in the park preform a show choreographed to music, and are the brainchild of the ex-disney creatives at WET design, the same firm that did the water features at the grove, as well as the famous fountains of the bellagio in las vegas.

large outdoor clocks are everywhere. this contributes to a victorian “town square” feeling (people out in public needed to know the time to catch trains, etc., in an era when pocket watches were expensive).

there is a bizarre industrial tinge as well. the dominant landmark at americana at brand is a large, distressed and rusted iron tower, that looks very much like the eiffel tower towards the top.

it holds glass elevators that—in a unique feature that had many young children staring in wonderment—operate with their weights and pulleys system on the exterior of the tower, completely exposed. they are, of course, over-designed and embellished beyond their mere functionality, looking quite spectacular.

what’s remarkable about americana at brand, however, is the philosophy. blending the retail district model of the grove with new urbanism towns such as disney’s celebration, this outdoor shopping mall is also a sprawling, high-density residential complex.

apartments, ranging from studios to townhouses to luxury suites, sit above the ground-floor of every facade. caruso affiliated, after all, is a real estate development firm. again, this is theming as lifestyle—not only are these ersatz spaces used for entertainment and amusement, they are now inhabited, permanently.

complex property issues arise from the format. the streets and buildings are private, to be sure, but as the los angeles times has reported (with regards to the pet policies; dogs must be small enough to carry), the two-acre green space park in the center of the development is, by virtue of zoning, actually public property.

this convoluted relationship is further exacerbated by the design of the complex. americana at brand very consciously evokes a concept as old as the first human settlements—”the commons.” americana is channeling the design history of public spaces to appear to be public property (such as a town square, or downtown), even though it’s a private mall. los angeles times architecture critic christopher hawthorne sums this problem up nicely:

[the design of the complex] “makes the distinction between public and private in the final product almost impossible to untangle. at the americana, the park is public space masquerading as private space that is masquerading as public. got that?”

i was met head-on with this convoluted state of affairs when, after being on the premises for a couple of minutes, i began snapping the pictures you see here for my research. i was immediately accosted by an (albeit, friendly) rent-a-cop who informed me that all photography, other than personal shots of friends and family, is strictly prohibited. that’s right—no pictures of the lovely greens, the fountain, or the fun trolley car. of course, many folks on flickr have taken them anyways.

after discussing my intent with the polite rent-a-cop, i was informed that i could get a photography permit from the marketing director’s office. fortunately, because i’m only a graduate student conducting research (and not someone shooting for stock photo purposes, etc.), i was able to fill out the lengthy paperwork and get a laminate pass that kept americana’s private security force at bay. i was bothered enough by the incident to write a letter to the glendale news press.

even disney—the most zealously litigious of all major media corporations—encourages copious photography of every nook and cranny of their theme parks (although they ask that these images not be sold for profit), and generally allows for commercial publishing of these images with permission.

themerica has taken me all over the world, from dubai to walt disney world, from paris to tokyo, from hong kong to macau, from las vegas to southern california—and americana at grand is the only place i was told i was not allowed to photograph without prior written permission.

americana at brand is troubling for all these reasons, but overall because it represents a recent trend in “public” spaces that are actually private—this is the privatization of the commons. spaces that are built like a town square (public), but are more like a corporate campus (private); no free speech, no photos, no rights. you can read more about this ongoing debate over americana policies at, among other places, the franklin avenue blog.

i guess it’s worth stating, then, that all images in this post are © caruso affiliated, and are posted here under fair use for educational purposes.

after time spent at both the disneyland resort and universal studio hollywood, i visited two sister complexes in the los angeles area that represent—like jerde’s citywalk—yet another future trajectory for thematic design.

both the grove (2002) and americana at brand (2008) are outdoor shopping, dining and entertainment sites designed and built by real estate developer caruso affiliated. the firm was founded by henry caruso—who also started dollar rent a car—and is currently headed by his son, rick.

the official inspiration for the grove, as reported by the los angeles times and elsewhere, is the city of charleston, south carolina circa the 1940s. i found this surprising when i read it, because there is a palpable southern california golden age nostalgia about the place.

maybe that’s because—although ostensibly based on a real locale in the southeastern united states—the grove’s true lineage is really disneyland’s main street U.S.A.

main street U.S.A. is the singular entry corridor to disneyland and a fantastical tribute to walt’s childhood town of marceline, missouri. wrapped in nostalgia and americana, it was designed to represent the coming of the automobile and electricity (circa 1890–1910). main street is not really marceline at the turn of the century, of course, rather it’s sort of a victorian gingerbread anytown (hence the U.S.A. name), and the grove mimics it in both form and function.

first, the aesthetics—this is not straight simulation, but rather a vision of collective memory; a nostalgia for something that never existed. it’s cleaner—no dirt, mud, horse stink (or poverty) and it’s also simpler—no differing races, creeds, classes (or crime). this kind of design approach is best described as eliminating visual contradictions.

the use of forced perspective at the very tops of the building facades is slighter than at the disney parks, but still perceptible. even the topmost floors of the grove are functional, after all, and so must be reproduced at near-full size.

art deco flourishes—common to the general time depicted here—abound.

the orientation of the central avenue is nearly identical to that at disneyland—complete with a trolley car that runs up and down on busy days (it was unfortunately out of service when i visited).

a central plaza and green space sports a water fountain show by WET design (founded by ex-disney imagineers) who created the famous fountains at the bellagio in las vegas, countless water features for disney parks and attractions, as well as a similar water show at the new americana at brand.

second, the utility—just as at main street U.S.A., lavishly adorned false-front architecture serves as facade for a large retail complex. inside, all of the businesses at the grove appear as regular mall outlets and, as at disneyland, several are interconnected, despite their outer appearances being small, individual proprietorships. in the tradition of venturi and brown’s “decorated shed;” here, then, is the “decorated mall.”

when compared to jerde’s postmodern citywalk, the grove is a striking contrast. instead of a departure from (and an adamant rejection of) disney’s simulation-centric nostalgic representation, the grove embraces it.

the grove represents the culmination of an architectural trend that has spread across the united states for several decades, reaching high zenith in the 1990s; one of very consciously manufactured nostalgia instead of overt modernism or flashy pop sensibility.

it’s hard to estimate in numbers how influential the disneyland main street model has been; but the influence is certainly there. in the fifty years since disneyland opened its gates, shuttered downtown districts across the country—decimated by the suburban mall, and later, the big box—have sought to revitalize (and grow their tax base) by gentrifying their own once-bustling main streets and taking a page from disney.

this has extended to the residential sphere as well. masterplanned communities that wrap themselves not in high-tech gloss or frank gehry “starchitecture,” but in a re-imagined, pre-war faux-yesteryear have been spreading wildy for over two decades. this neo-traditional neighborhood concept—clearly influenced by the thematic design of disney and others—is part of the new urbanism school of architecture that arose in the united states beginning in the 1980s. prime examples include seaside, florida (where, appropriately, the sterile reality-television town of 1998’s the truman show was filmed), prospect new town, colorado, and disney’s own celebration, florida (designed by robert a. m. stern).

the grove is unique in that it represents the creation of a re-vitalized retro-downtown from scratch, without having actually re-vitalized anything that came before. and like its more recent glendale sister, americana at brand, outdoor decorated malls such as the grove (and new urbanism residential developments with a shared vision) signify the growth of thematic design beyond entertainment and leisure.

whereas before, one experienced a thematic environment for a day (disneyland) or a series of days on vacation (walt disney world); now it’s possible to shop, work, and even permanently reside fully encased in the visual narratives of imagined nostalgia. it’s theming as lifestyle, and from the suburbs of southern california to the desert daydreams of las vegas and bourgeoning dubai—it’s on the rise.

directly adjacent to the studios theme park is universal citywalk, which opened in may, 1993 (undergoing a large expansion seven years later) and does not require an admission entry.

this 23-acre shopping and dining district was designed by the legendary entertainment architecture firm jerde partnership international, noted for other such spaces; horton plaza (san diego; 1985), fashion island (newport beach; 1988), and the mall of america (bloomington, minnesota; 1992). in las vegas, the jerde firm has developed numerous thematic environments; treasure island’s pirate show and facade (1993), the fremont street experience (1995), and the entire bellagio resort complex (1998). the citywalk project also has lead to collaboration with universal at both their florida and japan parks.

the work of jerde, universal citywalk in particular, represents one of the vectors that thematic design has been traveling—away from it’s disneyland roots. in an earlier post, i elaborated on a gradient that tends to form between two extremes: pure simulation and pure brand. near one end, there is main street U.S.A., for example—a conscious attempt to re-create americana at the turn of the century. near the other, there is something like niketown—a space where the only representation is the brand itself.

universal citywalk falls somewhere in the middle. it’s not simulation, and it’s not brand—it’s sort of referential. instead of trying to represent various icons of los angeles architecture and design, the space creates a new environment for these icons in which they are reassembled and then referred to. not replicated, not simulated, but nodded to.

visceral reality, a 1998 monograph of the jerde partnership international, notes that the firm consciously avoided the simulation end of the spectrum. jerde “did not want [citywalk] to be an imitation of any other place or time period.” thematic design, if nothing else, is exactly about the replication of other times and places.

the passage continues; “the [citywalk] design, thus, became a collage of the images and characteristics of the city of los angeles; it distills the atmosphere, the ephemeral quality, of los angeles street life, without duplicating any of its iconic architecture” (emphasis is mine).

by reference, then, i mean that there is a level of distance (not cold, but sort of a playful detachment) between the source and the execution. that distance grows greater the closer you get to pure brand. the path from one extreme to the other, then, would look something like this.

• PURE SIMULATION (traditional theming)
• REPRESENTATIONAL (interpretive theming)
• REFERENTIAL (decontextualized theming)
• PURE BRAND (self-reflexive theming)
  

if new york, new york in las vegas looked like a giant lego store display, universal citywalk is a smattering of oversized garage sale purchases lined in a row, baking in the southern california sun.

lawn gnomes, mother virgin mary charms, and vintage furniture pieces aplenty. here, kitsch is cool.

jerde encouraged individual retailers (attached to long-term renter contracts) to develop permanent spacial designs and signage to reflect the uniqueness of their brands.

the intriguing and engaging design of these retail spaces has endured longer than some of the businesses. one former tenent, sam goody music, closed its citywalk location following a massive bloodletting in 2006. the storefront tower, reminecent of the capitol records tower in nearby hollywood, remains.

there is loud, roadside neon throughout, with a healthy dose of route 66-styled retro thrown in.

some are functional; others are antique examples installed purely for atmosphere.

universal’s own king kong is thrown into the mix, in the style of a roadside advertisement.

even the most recognizable national brands have created unique inflated, pop architectural details for their citywalk outlets. here, every store is a “superstore.”

exaggeration and gigantism are the name of the game (literally).

many architectural features typical of the region are sprinkled into the medley. the lighting seems to have been plucked from the area’s tangled freeway network; it’s nearly identical to los angeles county municipal streetlights.

the drive-in, long time mecca of los angelinos, is here too—at least in vague tribute.

it’s disemboweled, appropriately shown to be past it’s prime. again, it’s not a simulation or a representation—i don’t feel that i’m really on a drive-in lot. there’s a distance between me and the reference being made, but i still get the message and know where it’s coming from. it’s just less immediately felt.

i am left with the icon of the drive-in’s bulky frame, without enough environmental context to fool me into thinking that i’m actually there.

the same goes for these large billboard-styled signs atop the perimeter. since there is no context, i can’t really feel that i’m out on the expressway, or in the middle of a city.

fortunately, there’s a healthy sense of humor here.

where else would a UFO crash into a comic book store?

you are here, the jerde firm’s 1999 monograph, describes these various elements. “citywalk is both unique and familar—a collage of the images and characteristics of vernacular los angeles archiecture. the project’s buildings are formulated from a ‘kit of parts’ of generic components: decorative tower and marquee elements, flat simple facades with a layering of various grids and signage.”

within this “kit of parts,” however, there are many self-contained thematic venues within the citywalk itself, just like i’ve seen inside both mandalay bay, las vegas and the venetian macau.

well known theme restaurant chains, such as the bubba gump shrimp co., dominate citywalk.

the intial bubba gump’s location opened in 1996 in monterey, california—the first such chain to be based directly on a film property (1994’s forrest gump)—and there are now nearly 30 scattered throughout the U.S., mexico, and asia.

the front facade of the citywalk location is a good example of referential, versus representational, design. note that the masts of gump’s boat from the film (the jenny) are not sitting atop an actual replica.

there is no water, no dock, no seaside setting. just concrete. the masts are instead decontextualized; taken away from both ocean and boat.

if disney’s imagineers had designed this restaurant, there would likely have been an actual environment surrounding it to provide context, because disney tend to practice more traditional, simulation-based theming. such a thematic environment—with a recreated dock, water features and seaside landscaping—would have clashed with the look and feel of citywalk’s referential collage; jerde’s aim is to remove sources from their original context and collage (reassemble) them into a wholly new setting.

once i moved inside, however, i found the restaurant employed more traditional, representation-style context. this was closer to simulation; a series of beachside shacks on the bayou. there was now environment—there was context.

deep inside the restaurant, i was far enough from jerde’s montage of “kit parts”; the more traditional theming here enveloped me without clashing with the overall thrust of citywalk’s exterior.

at night, the citywalk creates the same kind of visceral, dynamic energy as the las vegas strip, replete with garish (yet well-designed and attractive) signage and lighting.

although a decontextualized montage that departs from traditional theming, the space has continuity, similar to the cinematic staging of parks like disneyland. in the words of jon jerde, “when i look for urban archetypes, they are not things, they are sequences.”

universal citywalk is a fascinating example of the referential; decontextualized thematic design that moves further away from pure simulation and towards, but not quite arriving at, pure brand.

sacrificing the immersion of simulation, the space instead excites through its multiple, fragmented references.

at first i thought this would be jarring (as universal studio’s numerous incongruities were), but rather, since jerde establishes this as the program from the outset—here is a montage, it’s not meant to simulate, replicate or otherwise re-create—he succeeds.

it’s not theming in the traditional sense, but it’s the direction that much retail and restaurant design has gone in the past two decades—due in no small measure to jerde himself.

and let’s not forget the nice pun on the way to the parking lot!

the second attraction at universal studios that i enjoyed was the brand new, $40 million simpsons ride, which replaced the back to the future ride before it. the technology is derivative of disney’s aforementioned star tours, but instead of individual simulators, all vehicles face a single, massive IMAX-style screen (the star trek experience in las vegas uses the same approach).

the simpsons ride, like the show, is distinctly postmodern. here, the emperor (or the “wizard,” rather) has no clothes, and everybody knows it. as such, the attraction openly mocks the theme park concept—krustyland, “the krusty-est place on earth”—it’s proprietor (krusty the clown), the audience, and the ride itself.

for someone like me who has spent a good part of the last year trying to take these places as seriously as possible, this was some very welcome comic relief.

this is hardly just a gloss-over parody, however. great attention was paid to the smallest details and inside jokes, some of which only make sense to long-time disney park fans.

for example, the entryway to the attraction is flanked by a large, poster-sized park map of the krustyland park—drawn at the same level of execution as the infamous disneyland poster maps.

the references are delightfully blatant to even the most casual theme park visitor. this smacks of disney’s big thunder mountain railroad attraction.

and the classic jungle cruise (this time with a killer octopus).

there are small in-jokes for those that watch the show, too.

the front area of the park resembles disney’s main street U.S.A. there is so much detail to take in on this map that you can spend most of your time in the cue just admiring it.

besides disney, there are countless other reference to either amusement park mainstays, or local southern california favorites. here on the left is a log flume that is styled very much after the original at knott’s berry farm.

and an orca show theater nearly identical to those seen at sea world in san diego. the town of springfield is visible in the background.

the signature puns that have made the simpsons so popular abound.

every attraction name is loaded with references.

even krustyland’s imaginary attractions are conscious rip-offs of disney classics, such as pirates of the caribbean and the haunted mansion. these are given their own framed posters, just like at disneyland.

are these jabs a none-to-subtle reference to universal and disney pillaging each other’s techniques and concepts over the years?

just like jurassic park: the ride, the ride is themed to actually be a ride—krusty’s carnival midway.

fittingly, the exterior show building sports coney island-eque boardwalk styling.

the attraction also employs the “wrong turn” narrative trick of the jurassic park ride. here, though it is no accident, but the malicious melding of a long-standing antagonist of the series—sideshow bob. as a result, we are thrown on a crazed chase through krustyland, breaking into most of the parody attractions that we saw on the poster map in the entry cue.

all in all, the experience was fantastic—i had to ride it twice.

but what makes the theming of the simpsons ride unique is this self-conciousness that can only be called postmodern. what is the simulation here?  on one level, we’re entering the world of the simpsons; this is springfield, and i am now yellow. on another level, we’re entering the world of krustyland, which is itself based on other such fantasy places such as disneyland. so the theme is springfield, and the theme is also a theme park, within springfield.

physical structures that once only existed in the simpsons cartoon universe are replicated outside the attraction area with astounding precision, such as the kwik-E-mart (itself a parody of the ubiquitous 7-11 chain).

the smallest details, down to the pay phones, were not overlooked.

the exterior walls of moe’s tavern look just as they do in the animated realm. is this a simulation, a representation, a reference, or just pure brand?

this brings up something interesting from the blog comments about war game at fisherman’s wharf in macau. a sharp reader pointed out that this attraction was based on a video game—so in addition to representing a geographic locale, the theme is also the gaming environment itself; a virtual world. how do you characterize such a space, with multiple (and sometimes contradictory) reference points?

the simpons ride is somewhat similar, referencing disney, theme parks, and its namesake television series—not to mention all the smaller cultural nods that make up that universe, which themselves come from all over the place.

as gestalt, however, it totally works; a postmodern pleasure palace.

universal studios hollywood may have been disappointing overall, but there were two attractions that were rather clever, and deserve a bit of analysis. the first of these is jurassic park: the ride. when it opened in the summer of 1996 (although it had been in development foo two years prior—during the original film’s production), this water-flume attraction was the park’s number one attraction; over ten years later, it still commands some of the longest cues.

designed to complete with disneyland’s splash mountain (the leading flume-drop attraction in the area), the detailing of the entire jurassic park area—including the eponymous torch-lit wooden gate—is very well done. they’ve invested in subtlety and scaling that pays off; this is one of the few areas at universal studios where i felt enveloped in and engaged by the environment.

this whole part of the park is surrounded with dense tropical palms, which collectively function as a mini-berm to isolate the attraction from it’s neighbors.

it’s really the only part of universal studios that even seems like a theme park; good thing that’s the actual premise. following the story of the film franchise, we are on that famous costa rican island— where dinosaurs have been bred and put on zoological display for tourists—to ride one of the park’s signature attractions, a boat cruise.

the cue area thus requires no additional theming; the attraction is meant to look like, well, an attraction. this effect is completely with the requisite safety videos (containing some subtle wit and inside jokes).

once on board, an automated narration—the same from the film—directs our attention to various dinosaurs on display. so far, so good. what’s most clever about the attraction, however, is the story twist. about half way through the ride, our boat literally takes a wrong turn and enters a secure area. we then discover that (surprise!) many of the dinosaurs have gotten loose and now we’re in really trouble. i apologize for not having better pictures—the ride was too wet to bring my digital SLR camera along.

the theming of the final flume drop is well executed; our boat has entered a massive water treatment facility, and we end up being flushed down the drain, so to speak. when we return to the loading dock, it’s back to the original narrative of a theme park attraction, and apologies are made for the “malfunction.”

this is a story approach that disney pioneered with it’s successful star tours attraction in 1987—it’s right when things go wrong. based on the star wars film franchise, guests of star tours are space tourists on a commercial shuttle flight. thinking they are going on vacation, they are instead dropped into the middle of the conflict between the empire and the rebellion (complete with a death star) by an inexperienced robot pilot.

the “wrong turn” occurs right near the beginning, and immediately the audience knows that they’re in for something different. for many years, everything went perfectly right at disneyland—indeed, that was the point. then a younger generation of thrill-seekers, accustomed to the “safe” fantasies of the park, came of age and yearned for something extra; star tours provides that. by breaking the attraction (but keeping the illusion intact), disney was able to create an added dimension of surprise. a fantasy within a fantasy, in which the original (perhaps more tame) fantasy is unfulfilled in favor of the “accident” fantasy (which turns out to be quite thrilling).

others have copied this approach since, such as the star trek experience at the las vegas hilton. the premise is extremely similar to star tours, yet it takes things even further—the fact that you’re about the ride a simulator is overt, just before you are beamed to the future for the “accident” fantasy. by the end of the attraction, captain picard announces that you’ve returned to “your own time,” to the “simulators you were supposed to ride.” again, it’s the “wrong turn” approach, taken to the next level.

jurassic park: the ride goes even further than either star tours or the star trek experience by theming the environment as a theme park itself (the original premise of the source film). the attraction that you ride is actually a simulation of a ride—the ride that is going to “malfunction,” and provide the fantasy within the fantasy. it makes perfect sense, for the dinosaurs to present any danger, you first have to let them out of their cage to “break” the ride.

all which made for a thrilling (and complex) thematic immersion; one of the few at the otherwise lackluster universal studios.

universal studios, near hollywood, is one of the los angeles area’s oldest amusements. yet what began as a simple backlot tour during the silent film era took many years to evolve into something of a theme park.

probably due to the immediate success of nearby disneyland—as well as knott’s berry farm—in 1964 the modest tour was expanded to take guests even further backstage. into the seventies, the studio slowly began experimenting with adding more ride-based attractions and live entertainment. by the 80s and 90s, this trend had accelerated with popular rides based on film properties like E.T., back to the future, conan the barbarian, the mummy and the terminator. universal subsequently spun off its franchise into parks in orlando, florida (near walt disney world) and osaka, japan. recently the company broke ground on its new park at the dubailand site, expanding into the middle east.

universal has a curious history with the disney organization; the two have (no pun intended) often played cat and mouse in the themed entertainment market. the announcement of coming to florida spurred the company to rush its competing disney/MGM studios (now disney’s hollywood studios) to completion in 1989, thus beating universal to the punch by nearly a year.

disney had directly lifted the “studio backlot tour” and themes of golden age hollywood, and universal was not amused. to add insult to injury, the company didn’t stop there—there are now very similar park formats at both the disneyland paris resort (walt disney studios) and the disneyland resort in california (as a land in disney’s california adventure).

universal has sometimes responded by riding the coattails of disney’s more popular attractions, coming up with cheaper imitations to compete. for example, the former back to the future ride (and current simpsons ride) use the same motion simulator technology as star tours; the jurassic park ride was the studio’s answer to the massive flume drop of splash mountain. the organizations have also shared common talent; many former disney creatives and contractors have gone on to work for universal, most notably on their japan project.

you would think that given it’s long history (and this competitive banter with its rivals), universal would have a tried and true format. but the park is beginning to show serious age, and as an example of thematic design, it’s a total mess.

there are random groupings of themed sets, some fairly well designed, from the old west…

to new york city.

from the streets of paris…

to london.

a mexican cantina appears out of nowhere, for example. part of this is because universal never set out to design and theme park (like they did in orlando and osaka, which are by many reports more cohesive); they simply added attractions (or “rides” as they plainly call them) piecemeal over the years, giving the park a frankenstein-like multiple personality disorder.

part of this is also the location, which is far from ideal. the first chunk of the park sits upon a bluff, overlooking a valley far below where the actual studio lot sits. as a result, all visitors must descend and ascend through a series of long escalators down a cliff wall to the rest of the attractions on the lower level.

it feels like being in a airport, and although the smoggy view of the san fernando valley is sort of charming, a barrier to the outside world is required to maintain thematic illusions, and here we have none. plus, other movie studios, such as warner brothers, are in plain view—ruining the exclusivity of universal’s offerings.

one of the key lessons of walt’s original disneyland formula was control; control over access to the outside world (via the raise berm around the park), control of movement between one theme to another (within an illusion of choice at the plaza hub), control of entry and exit (the main street corridor, at the front). these restrictions actually provide freedom to guests—freedom to enjoy the fantasy, become immersed in the environment, and fully live the themes with which they are presented.

with no berm, no clear navigation center, and the disconnect between the bluff above and the valley below, i actually felt more disorientated (and confined) than i’ve ever felt felt under the tight grip of disneyland. because it’s a warm grip, a helping hand; it allows one to forget the cares of everyday.

universal studios felt loud, garish, crowded and hot by comparison. it wasn’t any busier than disneyland, where i had spent the last few days, and the weather was the same, but every negative felt amplified by the lack of cohesion around me.

transition zones were presented half-heartedly or completely non-existent. the sci-fi future world of the terminator sits adjacent to merry olde england. the island tropics of jurassic park are across from the ancient egyptian temples of the mummy. the 1950s are next to the flintstones. and all of it surrounded by the numerous regular warehouse structures of a working studio lot.

the incongruous diversity of the las vegas strip succeeds by comparison because it doesn’t present itself as a single, consolidated entity; it is, very clearly, indeed just a “strip” on which various proprietors have set up shop. it’s an open-air market, so to speak, so i expect a bit of jarring disconnects, a bit of noise, and a whole lot of visual inconsistency.

universal, by virtue of a single gate and a single admission, tries to pretend that it is a single entity, parroting disneyland’s park concept. but because it’s such a hodgepodge, it falls flat. spread out along a single boulevard, with no fence around it; then universal studios might work.

it’s not only the geography that works against the theming of the park, however; it’s also how the subject matter is treated. hollywood movies are about fantasy and illusion, fair enough. universal studios derives its narrative power from taking you “behind the scenes” to see how these illusions are actually made.

in essence, the wizard himself is selling tickets to have us pull his curtain away. and then, in trying to use thematic design to tell this story, he admonishes us to “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” but it’s far too late. you can’t construct a simulation in order to show that’s it’s all a simulation; the thought alone makes my head hurt in all new ways.

the techniques of geographic compression and forced perspective are used throughout, but the effect feels hollow.

they’re not just cleverly designed like movie sets, they actually are sets.

disney, conversely, embraces the illusion; it is, for example, official company policy that mickey and his friends actually live in the park. there are no behind the scenes, behind the scenes. the fantasy is real, presented as real, assumed as real, and consciously designed to be perceived as real. no confusion there—what you see is what you get.

for all these reasons, universal studios hollywood may be decent entertainment, but it’s very poor thematic design.

one design setting that is more unusual to find is pure urbanism—that is, the theme is “city” itself. sociologist mark gottdiener counts this among the numerous thematic archetypes in his key work, the theming of america; he too notes that the theme does not recur with the same frequency of mainstays like tropical paradise or the wild west.

the new york, new york casino hotel (NY, NY) is certainly not the only resort on the strip to represent such a specified setting of place—both the venetian and paris that i discussed earlier embody the look and feel of their respective cities—but it is the only one to stress this overarching sense of urbanism.

in this sense, the resort not only simulates the look and feel of new york city, but environmental details common to all large cities—much like a tropical paradise setting represents all beaches and jungles, even if the theme is further localized to say, the south seas. accordingly, the resort’s tongue-in-cheek motto is “the greatest city in las vegas.”

in contrast with the awe and grandeur of venice or the quaint provincialism of paris, walking around NY, NY i felt the sometimes unnerving but always lively bustle of life in the big city.

because i live in downtown san francisco, one of the largest (and loudest) cities in the country, some of the subtleties of the overall presentation were lost on me. i frequently found myself focusing only on the drawbacks and flaws in the design—in the same way, i suppose, that a resident of venice would find the venetian; not only patently fake but somewhat ridiculous.

i’ve only seen new york city through the eyes of a west-coast tourist; accordingly, my own level of scrutiny was far less than a local’s might be of this simulated manhattan. still, as a city-dweller, i was not very impressed (in the sense of wonderment); there is no fantasy here for me. i fight the crowds, the lights, the noise—and yes, the smells—of urbanity on a daily basis. the new york, new york hotel casino was about as exotic for me as a trip to the local convenience store, or to my favorite neighborhood watering hole.

still, much about the design is noteworthy. the exterior of NY, NY is a perfect architectural collage of the city’s most well-known and best-loved landmarks.

unlike paris or the venetian, this forced-perspective skyline literally gives rise to the numerous hotel room towers. as a guest, you might stay in the chrysler building, for example.

fortunately, the world trade center twin towers were exempted from this montage (probably owing to their modernist simplicity—all the other major structures chosen are delightfully art deco), so there was no need to consider a troubling remodel after 9/11. it’s perhaps fitting they are now absent from both reality and the vegas representation.

on the southwest corner of las vegas boulevard and tropicana avenue, a miniature statue of liberty stands tall.

below her, there is a “harbor” complete with water fountains fashioned from NYFD tugboats. around this area there is also a series a placards that commemorates the victims of the trade center attack.

there is less staging area out in front and around the perimeter of the casino property than resorts like the venetian or bellagio. the one exception is a massive, downscaled and compressed span of the brooklyn bridge, simulating its real-life walking path (complete with the proper wooden planks), that runs parallel to the strip—although this area is comparatively shallow and does not recede very far from the street.

behind this bridge, below the upper skyline hotel towers, sits a more street-level simulation of a vaguely new york neighborhood, complete with the appropriate advertisements and a broadway-esque theater marquee.

here is all of downtown new york in one single breath, much the way that paris combines multiple icons into a singular essence. yet here, the combined effect is that of a booster postcard; almost a cartoonish caricature of exaggeration. at paris, the eiffel tower, arc de triomphe and other landmarks are indeed scaled-down—but this is done with particular care, almost a stoicism (it feels even more so that way at the venetian).

in contrast the exterior of NY, NY almost looks as if it was assembled in a toy store, like one of those giant lego displays of the U.S. capitol or mount rushmore. it’s more cute than anything else, and that’s probably why the hotel casino draws more of a down-market (though still middle-class) crowd.

inside, the casino floor and all adjunct areas have a nighttime indoor-as-outdoor effect. this works surprisingly well; it just feels more like a city at night, strange as that sounds. many of the gaming areas contain manhattan landmarks; you can play blackjack outside central park’s tavern on the green, for example.

unlike paris however, the stage lighting is visible from the black ceilings, and large murals give a sense of depth (but in a movie-set, rather than realistic, fashion).

the main lobby and elevator banks for the various hotel room towers break from this and adhere to a formal 1930s art deco style found in many of manhattan’s most famous buildings.