I believe it's possible to fully understand why an attraction is gone, and still miss it at the same time. This is such a case.
In terms of world building accomplished with detailed, physical space, there is currently nothing like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. The current incarnation of its Disneyland predecessor is close, but doesn't quite get there. There are so many incredible attractions on this list that get there thanks to their elaborate, detailed show scenes, but none of them accomplish that literally under water. What follows is a walk through of what happened when you joined Captain Nemo's crew in a vain attempt to convey its magic to anyone who never got the chance to experience it.
To begin with, 20k was set inside a massive lagoon lined with sharp rocks and tropical beaches that added a huge, attractive water feature to Fantasyland. The scenery and blue water added the tremendous feeling of natural wonder to the area, and helped soften the heat and stretches of concrete that are a requirement in a Florida theme park. It also served as a transitionary space from the Bavarian themes of western Fantasyland to the sharper textures of Tomorrowland in the east. It was also absolutely beautiful to look down on from the Skyway.
That lagoon was also dotted with mystery and excitement, as huge, elaborate, Victorian-esque submarines pushed through the water, the topside of the hull resting above the waves, with a Cast Member looking out of the windows on the bridge. The subs snaked through thane reef in the lagoon, before disappearing beneath a waterfall and into a cave. Before even talking about the attraction itself, 20k was providing movement and beauty to the land around it. That role is now filled -- very well, I argue -- by Seven Dwarfs Mine Train, but it's hard to compete with the appeal of shimmering water and the allure of imposing submarines slicing through it.
Those subs were your ride vehicle, and they were simple as they were clever. Essentially, they were just gigantic Jungle Cruise boats, with the seating below the water level. The uniqueness of the 20k experience began as soon as you loaded, walking down a staircase, and finding a seat on a flip-down bench set in front of a personal port hole. There aren't many places where you walk down below the water for a theme park attraction, and you're fully aware of it here.
The overlarge jungle boats here were topped with a lid of sorts meant to look like a submarine that has surfaced. Though it will never actually went under water, it sure convinced you it did. The underside of the sub was guided along a trough, just like many other boat rides to this day, and that Cast Member was standing half above the waves "driving" it along the guide.
(It should probably already be obvious why there were some long-term problems with this design, clever though they were.)
The personal port hole design made this attraction extremely intimate, even while sitting in a vehicle full of people. You ended up absolutely glued to that little window, like a stereotypical child unsupervised in front of a television, enthralled by every detail. For some of you, I can perfectly explain how great this attraction was at both atmosphere and detailed sets by taking a moment to point out that 20k was a collaboration between legends Claude Coates and Marc Davis, though not the last one you'll be seeing on this list.
The first part of the journey wound through the lagoon. For the pedestrians above, it added flow and kinetics; for the rider, that entire lagoon was full of a highly-detailed, fully-physical, man-made reef, littered with fish and animated figures. It was absolutely captivating in its detail, and all filtered through actual liquid space, with the sun refracting down through the waves and making for a visual experience you won't find on another attraction. Yes, you knew that wasn't a reel reef, but the way it captivated your imagination and sparked your senses didn't care.
From here, the actual magic happened. I mentioned the subs passing through that waterfall and into that cave. The pedestrian could only wonder what the submarine was up to crossing into that cave; it just looked like a sub disappearing into rocks. From the rider's standpoint, you weren't passing into a cave at all; that was above-water stuff. This moment for those inside the Nautilus was where you dove deeper beneath the waves to begin the true adventure.
What was actually happening at the moment of rocky transition was the ride vehicle passing into a massive show building. In a way, 20k was a lot like Radiator Springs Racers -- or perhaps the rollercoaster that now sits in its place -- where it began with a leisurely tour of nature, visible from outside the attraction, before becoming a dark ride with hidden surprises. The waterfall served double duty as a visual element while standing outside, and something to churn the water to enhance the diving affect inside.
The show building portion of the ride contained wonderfully, richly detailed show scenes that were mesmerizing, and made incredible use of forced perspective. It began with an absolutely haunting tour of a graveyard of lost boats, patrolled by swimming sharks, then moved on to a beautiful cavern of sparkling ice as you passed under the polar ice cap. The depths of the ocean were pitch black and dotted with bioluminescent fish, and leaving those depths led to the discovery of the lost city of Atlantis, full of fabulous Greek architecture, as well as mermaids and a massive (and comic) sea serpent.
These scenes were all on par with any dark ride coming up on the list in their detail and enchantment, but it bares making clear what set 20k apart: this was all still completely under water. This was not just a show building, this was a flooded show building. Every step of the way, the unmistakable effect of looking through water applied a filter of thrill to what you experienced. Honestly, it even added a little bit of real thrill, since you were constantly reminded you were actually, in full reality, sitting under water on a theme park ride. I'm sure it probably wasn't wonderful for the claustrophobic among us.
Now, everything to this point was primarily a duplicate of Submarine Voyage in Disneyland, just with a 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea filter, just on a bit larger scale. Being a duplicate would cost 20k some points on this list, but it wasn't content just being a remake. In California, the sea serpent served as the finale, but Captain Nemo had one final thrill for his Floridian Guests to put a full, exciting climax in the Nautilus adventure.
If you've seen the film (and if you haven't, you need to go to Disney+ to correct that ASAP), you know its most iconic, and exciting scene was the giant squid battle, and the ride reproduced that. Through the darkness of the water, you watched as a massive squid figure crushed another submarine like an aluminum can, convincing in its scale through one last use of forced perspective. That followed by tentacles rising from the deep to surround your sub, and flashes of light and crackling electricity to simulate the Nautilus's electrical defense mechanism warding it off. It was one of the most visually exciting moments ever created in a dark ride, and made for a perfect finale to the bewitching expedition through liquid space.
As a child, this ride was both terrifying and formative. I have very distinct memories of elements like the bubbles rising along the concrete walls while waiting to dispatch, and the squid outside the port hole, and it thoroughly scared me, but also fueled my imagination -- and fascination for exploring under the sea -- in a way that no other attraction could touch. More significantly for me, though, was years later visiting its predecessor in Disneyland. By the time I rode Submarine Voyage, I was old enough to start paying attention to how an attraction worked. Looking at the details of how Voyage was accomplishing its elements through simple but effective means was the seminal event in my life of convincing me of what a theme park attraction's design to do. It wasn't necessarily the moment I decided, "I am going to be a Cast Member," but it sent me down that road, and transitioned me from merely being a passive observer of rides to becoming a nerd who analyzed the design of the rides, and the tricks that could make a themed space exist.
20k wasn't without problems. A massive lagoon of water is a maintenance nightmare, and it wasn't particularly efficient or accessible; I fully understand why it ceased to exist. For how it sparked the imagination, and did so many big, unique things for a theme park attraction, though, it will forever be an important part of Walt Disney World's history.
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