Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye

After disembarking from the Jungle Cruise, because lord knows that’s your first stop in Adventureland, most people would tell you it’s probably worth your while to give the Indiana Jones Adventure a go. It’s something of a hidden gem. When the attraction opened in 1995, I was a 7 year old braving the E-ticket rides, with eyes squinted boldly shut and a rigor mortis-esc posture. Had I relaxed slightly and perhaps exercised my ability to breathe oxygen during the 4 and a half minute journey through the Temple of the Forbidden Eye, I would have been able to tell my dad that he was wrong in claiming that the ride most closely mirrored the first film in the original trilogy. Was he really so blinded by a three second sound bite about hating snakes and one rolling rock that he failed to notice the Temple of Doom crumbling around him for the entire journey? Maybe looking into Mara’s eyes did something too him. Luckily, I didn’t ride with my eyes open for two more years, during which time I built up an immunity to the angry god’s optical flash powder.

Yes, the ride in Anaheim tells an original story with a big bang of a finish that parallels the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but it feels primarily like you are joining Dr. Jones on his trip to the ancient temple. Mainly, because it’s a trip to an ancient temple. Though most people swore by Last Crusade, as a kid, I preferred Temple of Doom. It allowed me to connect with Indian culture. Sure, they eat monkey brains, and when they have to travel long distance, they take elephants instead of cars. But did you know that just like American women are terrible drivers, women in India can’t ride an elephant worth their salt? Look how much our cultures have in common!

The overarching message of the ride, thus, is quite similar to that of the second Indy flick. If you mess with idol worshipping savages, you’ll encounter a world of dark spirits and a powerful magic that would rip you limb from limb if it weren’t for your sarcastic wit, rugged good looks, and the help of the dumb blonde and hilarious Chinese kid in the row behind you.

Preface

You are about to embark on my personal tour of Walt Disney’s Magic Kingdom. Make no mistake about it, that means Disneyland, not the Magic Kingdom park in Disney World. Yes, I am one of those Disney fans. If you are part of the 99.9% of the population that does not know what I mean by those Disney fans I suggest you visit them in their natural habitats at micechat, laughingplace or the actual Disney company fansite, D23. These are Mouskepurists. Their hearts break with the changes brought on by minor refurbishments. They scrutinize new napkin designs. They hold undying allegiances to a particular Disney park. And I, I align myself with the original. The only park Walt Disney himself ever witnessed first hand. The small, manageable, two park (one, if you only count those worth spending more than two hours in) resort in Anaheim.

I began visiting these Disney purists in their favorite happy haunts on the world wide web, the message boards of their fansites. In particular, I became somewhat engrossed with LaughingPlace (or LP, as the in-crowd call it) my freshmen year of college. At age 18, three thousand miles from home, living on my own* for the first time, with my annual family vacation to Disneyland shining as the light at the end of the first semester tunnel, an endless stream of opinions about all things Disney was a welcome escape.

While my Disney passion has continued to burn, as it has since my first visit to the park the Christmas before turning 2 years old, my fansite forays died down a bit when I discovered college had more to offer than a high-speed wireless connection. After three and a half years of the liberal artsiest education Vassar College had to offer, I returned to LaughingPlace in a senioritis induced episode of nostalgia for my freshmen self. The old friends I found waiting on the message boards were hardly recognizable. What had I seen in all this dorky shorthand lingo and poor grammar? Still, in scrolling through some discussion topics, I found that small community of people who worshipped things that no one else cares about. A thread on how the Christmas overlay of “it’s a small world” would unfold after changes to the classic attraction earlier this year caught my attention. Most LP users were hoping that the Disney Imagineers would remove the recently installed Disney cartoon characters. The characters were added to the various countries they call home in order to boost commercial appeal. Disney purists do not like when Disney sells out for commercialism. It’s sort of like how Pro-Life purists tend to support the death penalty. I was hoping that Disney Imagineers would cover up the U.S. portion that’s been added to the end of the ride. I have no problem with the characters, they’re Disney characters in Disneyland, but to represent the melting pot of our good nation with White farmers on your left and cowboys versus smoke signaling Indians on your right? That’s disgraceful. In a rare moment of passion, I decided to express just those thoughts in the LaughingPlace, Disneyland General, it’s a small world holiday, message thread.

My post was met with a puzzling array of responses, including:

“I love the America scene!”

“Other countries are represented by ‘older stereotypes,’ so it’s only appropriate that the U.S. should be too!”

and my personal favorite: “IASW (hip abbreviation for the ride in question) is beautiful and educational. There is no racism anywhere on this ride.”

For those of you who remember this happiest cruise to ever sail the seven seas only for it’s mind numbing soundtrack, let me remind you that the title song is sung by dolls from around the world. There are a lot of White dolls from all the various European countries. The British dolls stand guard at Buckingham Palace. The German dolls wear lederhosen. The Dutch dolls, not to be confused with the German dolls, clap their clogs together in a field of tulips. The entire continent of Africa is represented by a few Black dolls dancing in a circle amongst a jungle full of wild animals. This ride is, in no uncertain terms, racist.

So there I sat, in the library where I should have been working on a final paper, confronted with the conflicting sides of my split personality. Personality 1: I am an analytical, liberal, intellectual, almost college graduate who sees the world through Politically Correct colored (or should I say ‘of color’) glasses. Personality 2: Hello! I am absolutely obsessed with Disneyland.

I should have seen this dilemma coming a long time ago. In 8^th grade, when I chose to give my American biography presentation on Walt Disney, my teacher asked that I find a way to reconcile any support I voiced for Disney’s achievements with accusations that the man behind the mouse was an anti-semite. This was a tall order for a 13 year-old Disney loving Jew, but I managed to pull it off. Yes, long ago I used the key of my imagination to open a door and step into a twilight zone, where political correctness, Disneyphilia and cynicism coexist. That door is opening once again and this time, it’s opening for you.

* "on my own”-living with a roommate, in a 200 person dorm, on a 2,400 student campus