One of Disney's most popular attractions in recent years has been The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, an elevator-gone-awry freefall thrill ride. Because Japanese audiences are not as familiar with The Twilight Zone television show (and also because the designers had a nearly limitless budget—nearly U.S. $200 million was spent), The Tower of Terror attraction at Tokyo DisneySea is completely unique. It utilizes the same basic ride engineering—yet the architecture, story and setting were designed from scratch, and do not use the theming shared by the original Tower of Terror at Disney's Hollywood Studios in Orlando, or the sister attractions at Disney California Adventure in Anaheim and Walt Disney Studios in Paris.
The thematic design of the DisneySea Tower of Terror is interesting because it’s an excellent example of what I’ve come to call hard narrative versus soft narrative. Hard narrative is storytelling in the literary tradition; there are antagonists and protagonists, and a situational, ‘course of action’ driven plot that occurs over a number of interconnected scenes or acts. This is the narrative format of the campfire yarn, the printed page, the live theater (including its descendants, film and television), and very often, song. There are heros and villains, tragedy and comedy, romance and suspense.
Soft narrative, conversely, is visual storytelling. This includes setting and space, time and place—and often succeeds without any literary, hard narrative support. For example, the ambiance of a restaurant may suggest provincial Europe, the tropics or Ancient Rome through architecture, typography, lighting, landscaping, music and wayfinding, even employee dress—all without establishing any characters or plot. Yet the story is unmistakable, and it is this: you are here. In terms of time, here may be the distant past, the present or a fantasy future—in terms of space, here might be across town or across oceans.
Theming relies heavily on both to captivate and thus transport us. The combination of hard narrative and soft narrative varies from venue to venue; a restaurant or bar requires very little in the way of direct plot, yet a themed theatrical production requires much more. Many amusement park attractions—such as roller coasters—get by just fine without much narrative, but for Disney, it is this detailed storytelling that makes their experiences (and parks) unique.
At Tokyo DisneySea's Tower of Terror, hard and soft narrative are blended seamlessly into a delightful medley. The soft narrative is this: the setting is New York City, around the turn of the twentieth century. The Hightower Hotel—a massive, imposing gothic structure—is offering tours of its impressive collection of relics from around the world. Simple enough; we know where we're at and why.
Probably owing to the rich tradition of folklore and 'fright tales' in Japanese culture, the hard narrative, however, is exceedingly complex. So detailed, in fact, that leaflets in both Japanese and English are passed out upon entering the attraction [PDF]. This art is © Disney Enterprises.
The owner of this hotel is one illustrious Harrison Hightower III—a robber baron character typical of his era—who is also an intrepid world traveller and explorer. Sort of a cross between Teddy Roosevelt (or Indiana Jones for that matter) and John D. Rockefeller. Apparently Hightower had trotted the globe in search of rare antiquities to display in a tour at his hotel.
This literary (hard) narrative builds in successive stages, each of which heightens the level of audience suspense. First, you are presented the leaflet upon entry.
As you make your way through the cue area, various soft narrative elements—such as framed photographs, ephemera, and a stained glass window of Hightower himself—support the elements of hard narrative you’ve already been given to read. You know that there have been mysterious happenings at the hotel, and that a tour of these curiosities is formally offered, but that’s it.
After this main cue area, you’re herded into a second room, in which a cast member (Disney-speak for an employee in public view) reads a spiel from a PA microphone. Because this was presented only in Japanese, I can only guess as to the details provided (at the very least, I was asked to refrain from smoking and taking flash pictures), but it seemed like my fellow guests gained a better understanding of what was in store for them.
After this presentation, you’re moved into yet another room; this appears to be Hightower’s work study. Books line shelves on the back walls, and at the front of the chamber is a desk with business papers, etc. On this desk is an antique phonograph, true to the period, and above it on the wall is a large stained glass window of Hightower and his hotel. I apologize, no photographs were permitted from here on, so I don’t have any images of this part of the attraction.
A cast member enters, says a few words (in Japanese, of course), and proceeds to turn the crank on the phonograph to get it going. She then quickly departs and we are left to listen to—an appropriately distressed and crackly—recording that concludes the hard narrative. Because this audio is only in Japanese, supporting visuals—digitally animated in the stained glass window above—insure that non-speakers like myself still get the gist of things. We are introduced to a certain ancient artifact, a voodoo-looking statue that has the requisite subtle cuteness exuded by all characters in japan. This statue, however, has sinister intentions. It ‘zaps’ Hightower and somehow transforms him into a ghost (I suppose, he was killed, but his presumably brutal death is left appropriately ambiguous for a family crowd) and then Hightower plunges down through an elevator shaft of his hotel.
After witnessing this, you walk down into the basement of the hotel, which appears to be the storeroom for Hightower’s ancient relics that he has collected from around the globe—the centerpiece of which is a large Egyptian-style sphinx. From here you board the maintenance service elevators common to the other Tower of Terror attractions, and experience the freefall thrill ride so popular at the other parks.
Tower of Terror succeeds as a thematic experience because it manages to blend copious amounts of hard narrative—cast member spiel, audio/video presentation, and written handouts—with soft narrative (atmospherics) in ways that do not let each detract from the other; rather, they vigorously support one another to create an immersive environment.
Even the leaflet you are given at the start of the attraction is under the guise of the legitimate ‘tours’ that are being offered by Hightower of his hotel and the collected treasures within—this is not just a informative handout tacked onto a roller coaster. The first spiel is also given as part of this ‘tour’—and only when the cast member cranks up the phonograph do you depart from this tour and learn of the true nature of the haunting and hightower’s death.
The reveal is meticulously planned and executed in stages that increase the level of excitement for the guest and incrementally increase our knowledge of the outcome. All through the power of thematic design—a carefully orchestrated combination of both direct (hard) and atmospheric (soft) storytelling.