Yes. Really. If anything, this is too low.
For as long as I've been alive, it has been rather chic to make fun of "it's a small world," with the song being the butt of so many jokes. In fact, last week I was eating in Cosmic Ray's Starlight Cafe, and realized even Sunny Eclipse mocks the eponymous song.
Some playful self-deprecating humor is alright, I suppose, but let's be very clear: Small World is a great attraction, and abuse of its music, its importance, and -- most of all -- its style will not be tolerated in this space.
Just stop and think of how ingrained this attraction is in the popular consciousness. How many people ride it every day, how long it has survived, and how incredibly iconic both its look and its sound has become. We were all teenagers and thought it wasn't cool once, but if we were right, and it's not cool, how would it survive so long?
That's because it is both impossibly beautiful, and incredibly important.
Let's start with the latter argument.
In the post on the Carousel of Progress, we talked about WED Enterprise's ride system creations of the 1964 New York World's Fair, and how increasing park capacity was a key focus. Small World's design was right in line with that, as they partnered with Arrow Dynamics to design a flume ride where a massive boat could be rapidly loaded, then sent along a winding trough of water, propelled by pumps. The sensation of bobbing along and seemingly-free-floating down a river made for a unique experience -- very peaceful to go along with the attraction it was for -- but was also ultra-efficient, and able to carry thousands of people an hour. The concept would be ported to the Disney parks in several ways, adding much needed capacity, as well as tremendous atmosphere in some of the greatest attractions ever made.
The message of the attraction was also important. Sponsored by Pepsi, the UNICEF pavilion wanted an attraction that promoted world peace. This was a world in the thick of the Cold War, still having only recently recovered from the Cuban Missile Crisis. Pepsi wanted to present a powerful message in an enjoyable way, and turned to Walt Disney, whose team delivered brilliantly in just 11 months. Marc Davis designed the show scenes, and his wife Alice did the costumes. Rolly Crump modeled the animated toys, and Blaine Gibson designed and sculpted the dolls.
Small World approached its intended message by taking guests on a tour of the world, with nary an adult in sight. Instead, children represented countries across the globe, singing the same song -- written by the Sherman brothers -- that serves as both a caution and reminder of how close we are, and how much we have to lose. It's aim was -- and I would argue succeeded in -- compelling its audience to see the world through the eyes of a child as important, diverse, beautiful, shared, and worth saving peacefully.
The real key to the entire project, though, was art director Mary Blair. Blair had been an instrumental part of the early Disney animation studio as an art supervisor, colorist, and concept artist. Her whimsical style, use of primary colors, and gentle surrealism can most strongly be felt in Alice in Wonderland, but influenced every feature through Peter Pan. She also did the art for the Little Golden Book versions of Disney stories, impacting generations of children with her absolutely legendary and recognizable style.
I'll be totally honest, I am not equipped well enough to sing the praises of Mary Blair. Others have done it and you should go to them. I am neither an art expert, nor particularly good at conveying art into words. When it comes to the stature the likes of hers, I feel woefully inadequate, and frankly embarrassed of even trying. What I do know, though, is she had skills.
By 1963, she had been away from Disney for some time, but was called in by Walt to be the art director for the UNICEF pavilion. The result was an incredible distillation of Mary Blair's design sensibilities. Every corner of Small World oozes with Blair's unique takes on colors, her surreal designs with large heads and wide eyes, full of whimsy and optimism. This amazing woman's art is a foundational influence on animation to this day, distinctive, charming, and wonderful, and Small World is an entire outsized three-dimensional world of it that you bob through on a boat. That's why it is one of the greatest attractions ever built: if for no other reason, for a few minutes, you get to sit and appreciate the grandest, purest expression of Mary Blair's mastery on this earth.
Of course, the Florida version isn't getting originality points. The original was at the World's Fair, and it got ported over to Disneyland. The Magic Kingdom got a new version, and in one big way it's a lesser version: Disneyland's massive, iconic façade is rightfully considered one of the highlights of the park, while the east coast version sits buried in a covered load area.
The second version of Small World, however, was made when Blair was still around to influence it, and was made fully with the intent of the original in mind, with some improvements to boot.
Where the -- still great, let's be clear -- Disneyland original has typically a display on one side of your boat or the other, Magic Kingdom envelopes the boat on both sides, giving an experience that is more immersive, and rewards the rider more for looking around and trying to find detail. Rather than boats moving through a flume in dry show scenes, they float down a wide river that floods the entire room, splashing up against the show zones themselves and often including elements within the water. The different continents in Magic Kingdom also gain, thanks to experience, with a little bit of improvement in cohesiveness and improved sight lines. The original is an important, legendary experience, but Florida took the same concept and tightened and improved it in important ways.
It also remains true to an important original element of the 1964 version. Blair and the WED team intentionally left the United States out of Small World, while also including the USSR. There was a conscious effort to remind the audience there was more to the world than the US, to the point where the attraction did not even need to have the host country, putting its message of peace first and foremost. The only American representation -- a cowboy and an Native American -- were seen at the very end of the last show scene, and that was it. This design intention remains to this day in the Magic Kingdom version, representing -- decades later -- the message intended in 1964.
Then there's the song. At this point, it's a meme to hate it, but I let me tell you how many times I got annoyed by that song during my brief time having the honor of working at Small World: zero.
Even at that age -- long since past worrying about being cool -- I was actually surprised when I realized that, and it set me down a realization: the mockery of the Sherman brothers' iconic tune (which still isn't deserved, by the way) is largely a product of Disneyland's influence. In California, the children beautifully sing in unison, but they are all singing the same arrangement of the melody in English, practically the entire way. Beautiful as the song is, it is somewhat understandable for it to become something of a weaponized earworm by the end.
In the Magic Kingdom, however, the song never overstays its welcome, because it is never heard the same way twice. For the most part, in fact, it is largely instrumental. The queue area plays through it in several different arrangements. Geese honk with key notes, and in Ireland it sounds like Riverdance. Children in the alps ring along with syncopated bells, and and pungi plays it in Asia. The smooth sounds of a Pacific steel guitar play the melody through Oceana, and -- in one of the best moments of any ride -- an elephant leads a wild jazz version as you exit Africa. The English version of the song is heard hear and there, but sparingly. You never hear the iconic words sung with a large collection of voices until the beautiful finale. The Sherman brother's wonderful melody serves as background music, almost a leitmotif for the artwork that is styled to fit the scenery around it without becoming front and center until it needs to at the end.
It's artful. And it's peaceful. So many attractions on this list are here for their thrill factor, for getting your heart racing. There is room in a theme park for the other end of the spectrum, for peace, for vibes, and for optimism. "it's a small world" represents all that, and does it with incredible art direction from a true legend.
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