In some of the notes in this thread I detect a profound misunderstanding of
the function and mission of "theme parks."  The fact that they carefully
research their historical and scientific displays, that they are attuned to
topics of the moment and pretend to be educational is not sufficient to
warrant calling them museums or making them seem like museums. They may be
enjoyable, but I don't expect them to win any grants from the NEA. Why is
that: because they don't tell you anything new. In fact, they don't tell
you very much at all. This is a complex subject because there are a number
of hybrid institutions. For example the Holocaust museum in Washington,
D.C. uses a narrative dramatic method derived (probably) from theme parks
to get its message across, while the Ripley's museums (I surmise) uses the
metaphor of the museum to provide what is essentially an entertainment.

The description of the Viking town that just appeared in another note, I
think, helps highlight one of the problems. When the patron is whisked past
fraudulent or recreative displays at speeds that prevent the him from
asking himself or his companions pertinent questions, which force the
observer to take in only a single possible reconstruction or view of the
work, the interests of museology are not being served. No matter that the
fount of this information is an authentic site; the result treats it as an
entertainment and the observer as if he were in a theatrical audience.
Compare this to, say, the historical village at Plimouth, MA where visitors
are permitted, indeed, encouraged to wander at their own speed, in their
own pattern and are invited to discuss whatever they want with the "actors"
who pose as if they were living in the original Plimouth colony. Just as in
a museum, it is the visitor who calls the shots. The visitor decides what
to see and how long to see it; it is the visitor who determines the depth
of his engagement. It is not impossible to call the re-creation into
question, many visitors do just that, trying through their questions to
un-do the actors' posed conceits.

Theme parks, never offer opportunity to question, doubt is not part of the
program, and indeed, they do whatever is necessary to insure that the
displays and events and rides are adjusted so that the visitor leaves with
an image that is uplifting and positive. Sour notes are not tolerated.  To
appreciate being at a theme park the visitor may not question its premise.
Cynicism, scepticism and incredulity break the theme park's magic spell.

Take for example that wonderfully conceived Disney "exhibit" "Pirates of
the Caribbean."  I've read recently that the scenes of the pirates chasing
buxom women have been taken out and have been replaced with pirates chasing
people carrying food.  It is true that originally the scene exhibited, and
therefore may have fostered (among some), stereotypes of relationships and
lust. But the entire drama to succeed must depend upon the ability of
visitors to relate to stereotypes and to fixed fictional ideas of how
people lived. The reason why the ride was changed to a more "politically
correct" version had nothing to do with correcting stereotypes; it had to
do with a change in public sensibility to the sensitivity of women.
Disneyland just didn't want to offend, indeed, its success is tied up in
its refusal to offend.

In "Pirates" the observer doesn't actually learn anything. Rather, the
point of the exhibit is to use stereotypes to take the visitor through a
drama, at the root of which is chaos and the unwinding of the laws of
stability that make for a civilization.  The ride begins calmly enough,
beginning in the quiet swamp of a Louisiana backwater, but suddenly,
without prior warning, the lazy floating car, falls precipitously down a
waterfall and enters an underground world ruled by avarice, lust, gluttony,
abandon, inebriation and the rest of the deadly vices.  Luckily we all
escape and feel all the better (suspending disbelief in all of this) once
we emerge. The precipitous fall into the unknown underworld is a dramatic
device used to make the make-believe world temporarily acceptable.

As in so many other Disney attractions, the environment is just a means to
an end, and that end is the acceptance of the status quo and the rejection
of unstable danger. "We are lucky to have gotten out alive," may be the
recurring theme of many of the narrative displays. They are all rather like
Pinocchio escaping from the belly of the whale.

The morphology of the narrative structure of these rides borrows from
fundamental stories of human civilization, typically a descent into danger
and a re-emergence purified. In "Pirates" we are treated to a kind of
animated "Divine Comedy."  These stories, recast in multiple ways in
Disneyland, serve American culture as a kind of national religious
mythology. A trip to Disneyland is a fulfilling experience because at the
end we emerge with renewed faith that all is good and that evil and terror
and bad frightening things are past, and with knowledge that we have proven
to ourselves that we belong among the elect and among the good.

Museums can't do this for you, nor is it their function--at least not
today. In the last century and in the beginning of the current one
museum-going was a kind of moral activity where visitors were to be shown
examples of past civilizations better to understand the benefits of living
in our own. One underlying theme of old museums was progress--a function
inherited by Disney and other parks. Even as late as the mid 20th century,
some museums (I'm thinking of the Frick Collection, in particular.),
requested that male visitors wear jackets and ties; women couldn't wear
slacks. Decorum was set and specified. By wearing the proper garb the
visitor signified that he was entering a "temple" of the arts, that he had
respect and was ready to be educated.  How interesting that in the
beginning Disneyland also had strict dress codes and, further, even refused
entry to anyone whom they felt wasn't properly presenting himself. This
translated to refusing entry to youths with beards, and later, forcing some
people to leave if Disney security thought them to be breaking the "mood"
of the park.

At their heart, theme parks are dramatic entities while museums are
contemplative ones. Notwithstanding the fact that theme parks often borrow
from museums, and vice versa, and notwithstanding that the lines dividing
the two can get quite blurry these days, the major difference, as I see it,
is that museums ask their visitors to do a little work to make the exhibits
meaningful. They offer images of worlds that the observer must reconstruct
in his own mind to make real. Docents may help in this process, but
ultimately it is the observer who is responsible for his own benefit. He
may fail; and that is okay. While the museum attempts to be understood,
there is no requirement that it bow to the lowest common denominator.

The pure theme park guarantees success, it refuses to allow visitors to
fail to appreciate its message. And this message is always "everything is
good in this world, at least everything is good in the way it is going to
work out."

The conflicts theme parks present are of two kinds: 1) those which have
already been settled: the fight for American independence, the victory over
slavery, the triumph of science over disease, the triumph of the American
small town.  Or 2) they are fictional triumphs as in "Pirates" and
"Pinocchio." But one thing is certain; they never present issues still in
conflict. Where was the American battle over the Viet Nam War in
Disneyland? What displays in theme parks present the debate over abortion.
Which theme parks are dedicated to "deconstructing" American history. You
can't do that in theme parks because the issues are unsettling and because
there is no resolution you can point to and say: "I have triumphed."

The theme park celebrates the triumph of the American Spirit. The museum,
while it has many triumphs to celebrate, also shows failures. Civilizations
are born, develop and die. This is the stuff of which museums are made.
Theme parks cannot remind their patrons about great failures and tragedies.
But they can use tragedy or the uneasiness of impending tragedy to excite
feelings of fear and trembling -- as long as they bring us out whole on the
other side of tragedy, where, as luck will have it, there will always be a
store or shop in which we may celebrate our narrow escape by acquiring the
appropriate tokens and souvenirs.

Robert Baron
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P.S. The improperly attributed quote, below, is mine.
========

At 10:12 AM 3/14/98 -0500, Wendy Coones wrote:
>On Fri, 13 Mar 1998, Barry Dressel wrote:
>
>> >No matter what one thinks about theme parks and Disneyland/world, I
find it
>> >rather difficult to understand how anyone could think that these marvelous
>> >institutions have museum-like functions.  Museums and theme parks are
>> >quite distinct.
>
>At the Museum where I am there is a wonderful lady volunteer who is in
>her early 80s.  She is a very "with-it" person.  She is well read, has
>traveled to many places, is a ex-teacher, and a devout learner of new
>things.  One day we were having a discussion about Disney and she started
>saying how wonderful it was.  This was unexpected from a woman who lived
>with the Hopis in her 30s and went bear watching in Alaska a few years ago.
>I asked her what made the experience so rewarding for her.  She said,
> "they do their research because they have to, they make it intellectually
> interesting becausee they have to...but...they have the money to present
> things in an utterly fantastic way.  It's like going to the five star of
> learning places.  They make you walk around with a smile on your face
> all day."
>
>
>Wendy Coones
>Fort Worth Museum of Science and History
>[log in to unmask]
>