Just because your SCAD ID gets you a discount does not mean you have to buy tickets to an event. This is the lesson I learned at the Savannah Civic Center for the Sunday matinee performance of “Disney on Ice: Mickey and Minnie’s Magical Journey.”
I wanted Disney magic and I got soft core eroticism on a community theater budget.
Mickey and the gang narrated before, after, and in between four acts: “The Little Mermaid,” “Lilo and Stitch,” “The Lion King” and “Peter Pan.” The crew would dress accordingly for each show, though Donald and Daisy never found the time to put on pants. Comparatively, with the mice and Goofy, their white feathered bottoms stood out like inactive, unattractive negative space.
The greatest stretch was “The Little Mermaid.” Here we have unity of opposites at its best. Fictional mermaids require salt water (historically) for survival and propel themselves with a mono-structured, semi-phallic tail. Ice rinks are frozen bodies of water that emphasize movement on the surface rather below by making it impossible for large-cell vessels to travel through the crystalline state. Additionally, ice skaters are humans. They have two legs. To alleviate tension between nature, character and performer, Ariel was lifted in the air by five other skaters and she did the worm. This idealistic choreography was brief and was never repeated. For the rest of the presentation, the audience was expected to sub the skaters’ neon, bell bottom stretch pants (think Super Trouper from “Mama Mia!”) for tails.
The climax of “The Little Mermaid” occurs when Ursula soars in size and attacks much like Godzilla. Either no ice skaters with giantism exist, or the choreographer really wanted to play up the size difference. Regardless, at the moment in the show when large Ursula should appear, a blow up Macy’s Day balloon rolled out.
The gels were red. The backdrop was red. My roommate screamed. I screamed. The kid next to me screamed. And then we all laughed.
Ursula must have had a leak or a pinch somewhere near her trachea because her head didn’t inflate. All the air went to her breasts. They kept growing and growing. I thought they were going to explode. Suddenly the breasts were soaring vertically instead of horizontally. The kid next to me thought she had two faceless heads. Perhaps a stage hand came to the same interpretation, because almost immediately Ursula was pulled back way before the scene was over.
This was shortly forgotten as it became apparent that Prince Eric was not wearing a dance belt.
Intermission came and went. My punishment for not leaving: Peter Pan’s shadow. In the scene Peter is introduced, Peter chases his shadow. Peter’s shadow has a life of it’s own. To emphasize this, the concept artist gave the shadow a life. A real life. A skater completely covered in black nylon. Even the shadow’s face was covered with black panty hose material. If Peter Pan wanted to rob a Seven Eleven, this is how he would dress.
I understand I am no longer young enough for Disney’s target audience. I also understand that, no matter how old I become, I still have to suspend my disbelief in performance art. What I do not understand is the unconditional Disney love we continue to manifest – even when Disney totally gyps us.
