This will probably be the hardest attraction to articulate on this entire list. Undoubtedly, someone reading this would do a better job.
Stepping back from an place of raw objectivity, Jungle Cruise possesses probably the most quaint animated figures in Walt Disney World, directly using 1955 designs. Your experience can vary wildly from ride-to-ride based on who happens to be your guide. It doesn't even pretend to be something believable, as you magically jump across continents in a simple boat with nary a transition. It is a retro piece of a bygone era.
I believe that to be a feature, not a bug. There's a reason it remains a popular classic today, with perhaps the second most certifiable cult in Disney parks fandom (you know what the first is).
I tend to detest the term, "it has a certain je ne sais quoi." If something has a value, a feeling, an appeal, I want to define it, explain it, even quantify it. Being unable to explain the inexplicable drives me absolutely crazy.
There are, of course, some definable qualities. Flowing water, waterfalls, lush foliage, colorful flowers, and ambient spaces will always at least be enjoyable at the bare minimum. A Jungle Cruise with no animated figures and no skipper would still be pretty, so we have that as a base.
It is obviously way more than that, though, and if ever I were required to use, and even just accept, je ne sais quoi, Jungle Cruise would be the place, because it absolutely has it. I freely admit my adult live created a particularly close connection to the attraction, but I felt that unique appeal long before adulthood, and it's absolutely not like I'm anywhere close to being alone on this.
Nonetheless, let's try -- and maybe fail -- to talk about the undefinable quality that makes the jungle Jungle.
In my younger years, I spent my summers working at a high adventure base in the New Mexican mountains. The job and place are incredibly hard to describe, so I won't, but trust me it was incredibly beautiful, and incredibly fun.
The staff there was almost exclusively made up of college-aged kids who went there specifically for the experience of working in that environment, and the result was people openly having a blast with their time, their coworkers, and their guests. Wild stories, jokes, and music were workshopped and constantly shared, characters were created, and a general atmosphere of play was fostered. Young adults with boundless energy who genuinely enjoyed what they were doing and wanted to involve others in their, um, redeemable immaturity made for a unique, popular, and engaging experience. Play is the operative word here, almost like schoolyard fun turned into a job.
In the many places I've been, and the many jobs I've been close to, the only other location that comes close to that experience for the workers has been the World Famous Jungle Cruise. Not every Skipper is a born-and-raised performer, but overwhelmingly the cast of the Jungle are willing and excited to play with one another and with the setting they drive their boats through, and are excited to invite willing participant guests with them through that play. Walt talked so much about make believe, pretend, and play -- with the idea that the people make that a reality -- and Jungle embodies that attitude.
With that energetic, playful atmosphere from the performers, Jungle hits on nostalgia in two waves; one invented, one real.
First, there is the time and place the Jungle sets, this vaguely pre-World War II idea of adventuring in the unexplored world. The idea of there being remote corners yet to be explored is foreign now (and was never fully accurate outside of the world view of the explorer), but is heavily rooted in a nostalgia we get from our media. From The African Queen to Anaconda, from Pitfall to Uncharted, from Looney Tunes to What If. . .? pushing apart the foliage in the jungle and finding something exciting is something most of us get raised on, even if we -- or any real person -- didn't actually experience it.
In 1991, Jungle embraced both this play and this nostalgia with a queue revamp that squarely placed the attraction in the realm of comically dangerous adventure, with amusing props, kind-of-period-accurate jazz music, and MC Albert Awol delivering absurd announcements in the straightest manner. His dialogue even squarely fit with the Skipper culture that had already long been a thing at that point. "From the Skipper of the Iriwaddy Irma to the Skipper of the Senegal Sal," Albert said, reading a long-distance dedication, "'if you can't drive, stay off the river.' Isn't that nice?"
The real nostalgia of the Jungle is its place in the Disney parks legacy and history. There has been a Jungle Cruise in a Disney park for as long as there has been a Disney park. Very few concepts seen in 1955 are still a part of Disneyland and its many children, and none have the indelible cultural mark of the Jungle.
The Magic Kingdom is a particularly masterful remake of the original concept. The Jungle of 1955 was a perfectly serious and ominous affair. When Marc Davis -- master of the comical sight gag -- came to WED Enterprises, he determined Jungle Cruise needed some humor, and that's where we got things like the Trapped Safari and the Gorilla Camp. These are signature elements of the Jungle, but where just stapled into the existing California version.
In Florida, Davis got his comedic Jungle from the ground up. The result is a lot more cohesion, and the attitude that more naturally created that play aspect we talked about with the Skippers. The winding Florida jungle also masters sight lines and reveals in a way honestly few attractions are able to top.
Despite the decision for comedy, however, Davis did include one piece that really set Florida apart not because of its place as a gag, but because of how it masters a sense of mystery and adventure: the Cambodian Temple. I'm going to quote FoxxFur again, from when she included the temple as one of the Nine Shrines of the Magic Kingdom:
It's very difficult to articulate the tidal pull that temple holds over those of us who grew up with it and coming upon it is one of those Walt Disney World moments that never leaves you. As adults, we can carefully watch forward of the boat and observe how the river has been expertly designed to gracefully pull into view scenes from unexpected directions, which tend to alternate between scenes of beauty, menace, and humor. But the moment those Cambodian ruins pull into view, massive, larger than life, both beautiful and scary, is one of the supreme moments of the engineered miracle at Walt Disney World. Adults still gasp and children quietly simmer away in anxiety. This is a primal experience.
In 1971, the Jungle was the anchor of Adventureland, and an example of taking established things from Disneyland and plussing them for Florida. It's an indelible part of the park, and enjoying a moment in time where every ride vehicle has a living, breathing person, where thematic transmissions aren't required, and watching a fake animal move a little bit was enough to be an E Ticket is like participating in a piece of history.
I feel that argument -- that this is driven by nostalgia and its place in history -- is something that could be dismissively sneered as a bad reason to enjoy the attraction, but I will push very hard against that. Walt Disney World is celebrating its 50th anniversary because people care about its history. You are reading this blog likely because you care about its history. These parks are popular because people care about nostalgia, and there is not a single thing wrong with that.
Appreciation for the next big thing is no more "correct" than appreciation for the classics. Nostalgia for 40s chic is no more "correct" than nostalgia for 70s ride design. Absolutely, the quality of the Jungle Cruise is probably largely lost on the uninitiated, and that's okay, but the fact is: there are a lot in the ranks of the initiated, and they're not wrong for being there.
Comments