Universal Studios, near Hollywood, is one of the LA area's oldest amusements. Yet what began as a simple backlot tour during the silent film era took many years to evolve into something of a theme park. Probably due to the immediate success of nearby Disneyland, in 1964 the modest tour was expanded to take guests even further backstage.
Into the seventies, the studio slowly began experimenting with adding more ride-based attractions and live entertainment. By the 1980s and 90s, this trend had accelerated with popular rides based on film properties like E.T., Back to the Future, Conan the Barbarian, The Mummy and The Terminator.
Universal subsequently spun off its franchise into parks in Orlando, Florida (near Walt Disney World) and Osaka, Japan. Recently the company broke ground on its new park at the Dubailand site, expanding into the Middle East.
Universal has a curious history with the Disney organization. The two have (no pun intended) often played cat and mouse in the themed entertainment market. The announcement of coming to Florida spurred the company to rush its competing Disney/MGM Studios (now Disney's Hollywood Studios) to completion in 1989, beating Universal to the punch by nearly a year.
Disney had directly lifted the "studio backlot tour" and themes of golden age Hollywood, and Universal was not amused. To add insult to injury, the company didn't stop there—there are now very similar park formats at both the Disneyland Paris Resort (Walt Disney Studios) and the Disneyland Resort in California (as a land in Disney California Adventure).
Universal has sometimes responded by riding the coattails of Disney's more popular attractions, coming up with cheaper imitations to compete. For example, the former Back to the Future ride (and current Simpsons ride) use the same motion simulator technology as Star Tours, and the Jurassic Park ride was the studio's answer to the massive flume drop of Splash Mountain. The organizations have also shared common talent. Many former Disney creatives and contractors have gone on to work for Universal, most notably on their Japan project.
You would think that given it's long history (and this competitive banter with its rivals), Universal would have a tried and true format. But the park is beginning to show serious age, and as an example of thematic design, it's a total mess.
There are random groupings of themed sets, some fairly well designed, from the Old West...
to New York City.
From the streets of Paris...
to London.
A Mexican cantina appears out of nowhere, for example. Part of this is because Universal never set out to design and theme park (like they did in Orlando and Osaka, which are by many reports more cohesive), rather attractions (or "rides" as they plainly call them) were added piecemeal over the years, giving the park a Frankenstein-like multiple personality disorder.
Part of this is also the location, which is far from ideal. The first chunk of the park sits upon a bluff, overlooking a valley far below where the actual studio lot sits. All visitors must descend and ascend through a series of long escalators down a cliff wall to the rest of the attractions on the lower level.
It feels like being in a airport, and although the smoggy view of the San Fernando Valley is sort of charming, a barrier to the outside world is required to maintain thematic illusions, and here we have none. Plus, other movie studios, such as Warner Brothers, are in plain view—ruining the exclusivity of universal's offerings.
One of the key lessons of Walt's original Disneyland formula was control; control over access to the outside world (via the raise berm around the park), control of movement between one theme to another (within an illusion of choice at the plaza hub), control of entry and exit (the main street corridor, at the front). These restrictions actually provide freedom to guests—freedom to enjoy the fantasy, become immersed in the environment, and fully live the themes with which they are presented.
With no berm, no clear navigation center, and the disconnect between the bluff above and the valley below, I actually felt more disorientated (and confined) than I've ever felt felt under the tight grip of Disneyland. Because it's a warm grip, a helping hand; it allows one to forget the cares of everyday.
Universal studios felt loud, garish, crowded and hot by comparison. It wasn't any busier than Disneyland, where I had spent the last few days, and the weather was the same, but every negative felt amplified by the lack of cohesion around me.
Transition zones were presented half-heartedly or completely non-existent. The sci-fi future world of The Terminator sits adjacent to merry Olde England. The island tropics of Jurassic Park are across from the ancient Egyptian temples of The Mummy. The 1950s are next to The Flintstones. And all of it surrounded by the numerous regular warehouse structures of a working studio lot.
The incongruous diversity of the Las Vegas Strip succeeds by comparison because it doesn't present itself as a single, consolidated entity—it is, very clearly, indeed just a "strip" on which various proprietors have set up shop. The Strip is an open-air market, so to speak, so I expect a bit of jarring disconnects, a bit of noise, and a whole lot of visual inconsistency.
Universal, by virtue of a single gate and a single admission, tries to pretend that it is a single entity, parroting Disneyland's park concept. But because it's such a hodgepodge, it falls flat. Spread out along a single boulevard, with no fence around it; then Universal Studios might work.
it's not only the geography that works against the theming of the park, however; it's also how the subject matter is treated. Hollywood movies are about fantasy and illusion, fair enough. Universal Studios derives its narrative power from taking you "behind the scenes" to see how these illusions are actually made.
In essence, the wizard himself is selling tickets to have us pull his curtain away. And then, in trying to use thematic design to tell this story, he admonishes us to "pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" but it's far too late. You can't construct a simulation in order to show that's it's all a simulation. The thought alone makes my head hurt in all new ways.
The techniques of geographic compression and forced perspective are used throughout, but the effect feels hollow.
They're not just cleverly designed like movie sets, they actually are sets.
Disney, conversely, embraces the illusion. For example, the official company policy is that Mickey and his friends actually live in the park. There are no behind the scenes, behind the scenes. The fantasy is real, presented as real, assumed as real, and consciously designed to be perceived as real. No confusion here—what you see is what you get.
For all these reasons, Universal Studios Hollywood may be decent entertainment, but it's very poor thematic design.