My second full day at the Tokyo Disney Resort I spent at Tokyo DisneySea. This sister theme park to Tokyo Disneyland opened in September 2001, and is one of the world's most popular—over twelve million people visited in 2007. Sparing no expense, the Oriental Land Company (owner of the Tokyo Resort) spent over an estimated four billion U.S. dollars to design, develop and construct the park. Concepts for a Disney park based on the world's oceans date back to the early 1990s, when the company was considering building at either its Burbank studio location, the Long Beach pier, or adjacent to Disneyland; this development later became the disappointingly lackluster California Adventure.
Instead of the typical lands designation found at other Disney parks, DisneySea uses ports of call for its seven themed areas. At the center is a large man-made lagoon (DisneySea is built on reclaimed land and sits directly adjacent to the ocean) with numerous interconnected waterways that encircle the park. This echoes the revolutionary hub-and-spoke central plaza layout of the original Disneyland (and all subsequent Magic Kingdom-style parks), but is intentionally designed to feel more organic. The strict geometry and symmetry of a central plaza thus gives way to the natural fluidity of rivers, streams and lakes.
After walking through the main entry plaza, I arrived at Mediterranean Harbor. This first port is themed in the style of Europe’s Renaissance and the early age of seafaring exploration (roughly 1300–1500). Rather than the long walk down Main Street U.S.A. to a central plaza, this area opens up in a v-like shape in which guests can venture east or west around the park’s main lagoon.
Italy is the most pronounced, with replicas of several Portofino buildings, the famous Venice Canals as well as Florence’s Arno Bridge—but portions of the design subtly nod to Spain, North Africa, Greece and Turkey as well. As is the case with many Disney designs, the architecture is referential rather than an exact simulation—most features, styling and colors are exaggerated in sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle ways. The overall result is an “impression” of the Mediterranean Coast, not a re-creation—and this impression draws upon both popular and cinematic stereotypes of the region.
Continuing to the left, I walked into American Waterfront, the setting of which is the eastern seaboard of the United States at the turn of the twentieth century. Central here is a meticulous representation of New York City at roughly the same time period as Disneyland’s Main Street U.S.A. (1890–1910), including a nearly full-scale ocean steamer docked alongside. The outer edge of this area pays homage to the small fishing towns of New England.
The design detail here is absolutely stunning and showcases some of the company's most exceptional graphics and typographic work. There is a level of verisimilitude here unparalleled at any other Disney theme park—from the architectural weathering and aging, to the signage and storefronts, to the various print ephemera scattered about in the form of advertisements and postings.
An elevated electric railway (the kind that existed on America’s east coast in the early 1900s) connects the American Waterfront with Port Discovery, which is called the “Marina of the Future.” It functions as the equivalent of the Disney Tomorrowland archetype, yet this port is not modernist in the way of Disneyland’s white concrete utopian visions—instead the area takes most of its design cues from Discoveryland at Disneyland Paris.
There is a subtle Victorian styling to Port Discovery, which serves as a remarkable transition zone to the adjacent Mysterious Island. Located more or less at the center of the park, the theme here is based on Disney’s interpretations of the writings of Jules Verne, and is very strongly influenced by the company’s 1954 feature film 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. The landmark of Mysterious Island (and of DisneySea as a whole) is Mount Prometheus—a live volcano the same height as Tokyo Disneyland’s Cinderella Castle next door—which erupts periodically with smoke and light.
Behind Mysterious Island, at the far back of DisneySea, I walked into Lost River Delta, which is something of the equivalent to the Disney Adventureland archetype—the theme here is Tropical Paradise and the exoticism of the world’s equatorial jungles, with an emphasis on Central and South America.
Lost River Delta hosts only two major attractions; the designers have left much of this area at the back of the park vacant to accommodate future expansion.
Continuing to the right, I entered Arabian Coast which, as the name suggests, is themed as an Arabian Fantasy. Drawing on the 1992 Disney animated film Aladdin and the stories of Sinbad from Arabian Nights, the designers have fashioned an elaborate world that simultaneously appears true-to-life and out of a children’s storybook. The use of forced perspective, delicate lighting and other stage set building techniques contribute to an atmosphere of friendliness and present the foreign (the Middle East is extremely exotic to not only Western audiences, but Asian as well) without being intimidating.
Especially worthy of note was the color palette, which seems to also have been inspired by techniques employed at Disneyland Paris. Light pastels and deep, striking hues are utilized to give the structures greater presence in overcast gray. This is wise choice, given that both times of year that I've visited DisneySea—January and now June—it was far from sunny and clear.
Right next to this beautiful Arabian fantasy is Mermaid Lagoon, the most unimpressive port at DisneySea. Designed for young children, the entire complex is indoors and features numerous rides and attractions all themed after Disney’s 1989 hit animated film The Little Mermaid. Because it doesn’t reference any cultural or geographic cues, and is devoid of nostalgia, I would say that this is the least successful themed area at DisneySea. Certainly, the concept is striking and the execution detail-laden, but as I’m seeing again and again across the globe, thematic design relies on cultural and geographical references that are imbued with a certain wistful nod to the past (or, less often, a fantastical future). Mermaid Lagoon exists to give a certain film property—and only that film—life, and as such its vision is painfully limited.
My day (and night) at DisneySea was an extremely rich experience, and I would say that it ties with the Disneyland Paris park for best thematic design overall. The level of research and depth of referential material that the park designers followed in their concepting shows through in a painstaking attention to every conceivable detail. Two areas of the park struck me the most—The Tower of Terror attraction and the Mysterious Island port—so I will elaborate on those in further posts.