home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1990s
/
Time_Almanac_1990s_SoftKey_1994.iso
/
time
/
061890
/
0618205.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1994-03-25
|
6KB
|
120 lines
<text id=90TT1587>
<title>
June 18, 1990: Universal's Swamp of Dreams
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
June 18, 1990 Child Warriors
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
BUSINESS, Page 64
Universal's Swamp of Dreams
</hdr>
<body>
<p>A $640 million theme park is off to a shaky but promising start
</p>
<p>By Richard Corliss
</p>
<p> Steven Spielberg wants to be Walt Disney. Jay Stein wants
to get even with the Walt Disney Co. So the movie director, who
in the past decade has created a boutique industry of family
films in the grand old Disney tradition, and the president of
MCA's recreation division, who believes his idea for a
movie-studio theme park was filched by Disney Chairman Michael
Eisner a decade ago, were just the fellows to devise Universal
Studios Florida in Orlando, ten miles up the road from
omnipotent Walt Disney World.
</p>
<p> "If you build it, they will come." That rallying cry, from
Universal's hit film Field of Dreams, embodies the sentiment
that inspired Stein and MCA to develop 444 acres of
snake-infested swamp into the largest U.S. moviemaking complex
outside Hollywood and a handsome leisure world nearly twice the
size of rival Disney-MGM Studios. With a partner, Britain's
Rank Organization, and $640 million worth of muscle and
imagination, MCA was ready to pose a serious challenge to
Disney, on its own terms, for the hearts, minds and
discretionary income of the 13 million tourists who visit
Central Florida each year.
</p>
<p> When Universal Studios Florida finally opened last week, the
people did come, but the field of dreams was not ready for
play. The park's most anticipated attractions, a pair of $40
million thrill rides based on King Kong and Jaws, were
operating sporadically or not at all, thanks to last-minute
tinkering with the daunting computer systems that run them.
When the Earthquake ride was closed for repairs, those in the
queue chorused an angry demand for "Re-fund! Re-fund!" (and got
it). Others stood in line nearly two hours to experience
Spielberg's rapturous E.T. Adventure, one of the two
functioning rides.
</p>
<p> The delays were one more obstacle in Stein's Sisyphean
journey to realize his dream park. He had first proposed the
idea two decades ago. In 1980 he pitched a partnership to
Paramount, where Eisner was president before taking over
Disney. (Eisner says he was not at the meeting.) Last year
Cineplex Odeon backed out as co-sponsor. And still Stein
pursued his vision, like the Jaws shark searching for fresh
kill. In the weeks before the opening, he walked dozens of
journalists through the unfinished attractions. So beguiling was
Stein's spiel that some reporters obligingly described the
experience as if they had been on the completed rides and the
park was ready to roll.
</p>
<p> So what do you want for $30.74? And what, eventually, will
you get? An anti-Disney World, as far removed in spirit from
the Magic Kingdom as gray (the dominant color) is from glitz.
Both parks have strolling characters, but instead of Mickey and
Minnie, Universal has Frankenstein, Marilyn Monroe,
Beetlejuice. Both places will sell you plenty of food, but
Universal's is spicier, tastier, more sophisticated. In
movie-ratings terms, Disney's rides are G (for Gentle),
Universal's PG (for Pretty Grisly).
</p>
<p> Spielberg aptly calls the attractions "fun-scary." Jaws
propels the great white at a boatful of innocent tourists,
culminating in a nifty moment when the shark chomps on a
pontoon and spins the craft in a deadly semicircle. Earthquake
unleashes a flood in a San Francisco subway station during a
tremor that registers 8.3 on the rictus scale. On the
Kongfrontation ride, the big monkey goes ape in Manhattan,
nastily juggling the passengers in a suspended tram; it looks
great but needs to move faster. The Funtastic World of
Hanna-Barbera sends cartoon fans on a witty, jolting whirl into
the Jetsons' outer space, through the Flintstones' Bedrock, and
straight down the crevasses of Jellystone Park. Only the lovely
E.T. ride, which puts visitors on bikes to pedal the cuddly
alien back home, is suitable for toddlers.
</p>
<p> Universal never wants you (or Hollywood moviemakers) to
forget that the park is a working film studio, where visitors
may turn any street corner and see a real picture being shot.
One show instructs the layman in moviemaking (postproduction,
makeup, special effects) and movie history. In the Alfred
Hitchcock pavilion, visitors can peer through binoculars at a
clever model of the courtyard that James Stewart looked out on
in Rear Window.
</p>
<p> To pit Disney against Universal is to compare candy apples
and plastic oranges. Both give value for money; both provide
state-of-the-park tingles. At least Universal Studios Florida
will also, once it gets revved up. Spielberg calls the
enterprise a "work in progress," preferring to look ahead to
his Cliffhanger and Back to the Future rides and the imminent
invasion of the park by that cartoon bad boy Bart Simpson.
"Years from now," he predicts, "nobody will remember that this
wonderful place had teething pains." He might also have
mentioned the notorious glitches--gridlock, streets gooey
with hot tar, customers close to mutiny--that plagued the
debut of a small California park in 1955. That one was called
Disneyland.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>