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Posts Tagged ‘disney’
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Magic Underwear
By Daddy Brad Wednesday, February 24th, 2010
Each year the good folks at Hanes assemble a group of bloggers called the Comfort Crew and treat them and their families to a week at Disney World in return for their thoughts about undergarments and how to build meaningful relationships with moms and dads. My family was lucky enough to be included in this year crew and we just returned from an incredible trip. I plan on posting more about our Disney experience over the next few weeks but I have a few initial thoughts to share while the pixie dust is still fresh in my mind.
Bolt From The Blue Must See 3 D For Geeky Dads And Kids
By Daddy Clay Monday, December 8th, 2008
Though there are certainly annoyances in Disney’s latest animated feature, I have not enjoyed a family movie this much since Pixar’s Monsters Inc. Bolt, while certainly enjoyable as a piece of narrative in its own right, also offers a peek into the future of the movie business.
As far as the storytelling goes, the plot is nothing special — a road movie. A straight ripoff/homage of Lassie Come Home, with a little po-mo movie-within-a-movie twist. Bolt thinks he’s a superhero because the crew of the TV show he appears on wants to preserve his method acting. When an evil executive attempts to corrupt the purity of the process, a shoot goes terribly awry, and Bolt is accidently shipped from LA to New York.
There he gets hitched to a saucy cat named Mittens. Rhino, a hamster of some kind voiced hilariously by animator Mark Walton, rounds out the samurai squad. They have cross-country misadventures before the inevitable reunion with those who care.
This may seem like a luke-warm review of a movie that I characterize as a “must-see.” did I mention that it is 3-D? Holy crap! Why on earth would a family of 5 with a gigantic plasma and surround sound at home, schlep to the local google-plex and pay outrageous box office? See Bolt in 3-D and that question will be thoroughly answered. The polarized 3-D here is absolutely gorgeous, completely immersing you in the animator’s world. The opening sequence is as thrilling as any ride at WDW. Seriously.
The effect here is not over-the-top constant missiles coming at your face (this movie has to work in 2-D as well, given the dearth of theaters rigged with the right projection gear). Rather, it’s the land and cityscapes that benefit the most from the technology. The environments are a silent character in this movie. And they rock.
The whole experience had me envisioning movie theaters of the future looking a lot more like theme parks — destination where families spend an afternoon. Maybe it was sticker shock. Taking my family plus two friends cost more than a Benjamin! Sheesh.
A few other quibbles. John Travolta drives me nuts; dude’s a Hollywood Scientologist Cyborg from the planet Smug Self Congratulation. But I got over it. Also, the final scene, where the heroes find peace with Miley Cyrus in the authenticity of the country, far away from the glare of Hollywood is obnoxiously patronizing and disingenuous. I’m sure everybody on that project has since plumped up and retired to a farmhouse outside Des Moines. Blech.
Whatever. Your kids will know better than to take this movie that seriously anyway. They’ll just have an amazing ride.
The Miley Issue
By Daddy Clay Tuesday, April 29th, 2008
Is there really an issue here at all? I find the notion of taking trampy pictures of a fifteen year old to be a little distasteful, but how old are most models anyway? Would it put this in context if all models depicted in fashion magazines had their ages in boxes at the bottom of the frame? Miley would come in slightly below average, but not really by that much. In terms of talking to the kids about it, I’m probably going to steer my six-year-old away from her subscription copy of Vanity Fair this month. She’ll be crushed, I’m certain. Maybe I can distract her with a Cosmo.
I will own this much — I have let my daughter watch Hannah Montana from time to time. It’s a sure sign of my parenting decrepitude. Parenting fatigue. I was absolutely strict with Bubba about those live action tweeny shows that are all over the Disney channel. I even felt squeamish about High School Musical. It all seemed a little too cute boy/girl, kissy face subtexty to me. So I said no. But Hannah Montana, with the exception of the occasional appearance by Dolly Parton, is generally without any suggestive subtext whatsoever. It’s horrid, but it’s not horny. So I felt okay about letting her watch.
A Times blogger felt compelled to show the photos to her daughter, which gets a resounding “hunh?” from me. Pre-emptive exposure to arty photography? I don’t get it. What’s to be gained by actively exposing the kid to the photos? Other than getting material for your blog, which puts her actions in the same category as Achy-Breaky Boy. Thoughts?
Daddy Clays Hidden Mickey
By Daddy Clay Tuesday, March 25th, 2008
What use is it for a blogger to go to Disney, if not to come back and write a huge snarky takedown of the Happiest Place on Earth? So here it comes. I didn’t like the coffee. Is that pathetic or what? I spent seven days in the belly of the Mouse, and that’s the best I can come up with. Four days at the parks and three on the Disney Cruise and I’ve got bupkis. I’ve been back for days before getting around to this post, because I just couldn’t come grumpy, er, Grumpy. Now the coffee was really abysmal. Corporate giant Disney made an exclusive deal with corporate giant Nestle to provide all the coffee at both the park and on the boat. The depth of my dependency was clear with every gulp of mass produced Taster’s Choice that I worried down. When, on a shore excursion, we passed a Starbucks, an audible collective moan went through the crowd as we were herded onto a catamaran. Disney World, and the boat to a lesser extent, would be much less pleasant if people were not cattle. Because people, like cattle, prefer to sleep in when on vacation. Are most people’s kids not bouncing off the walls at the crack of dawn? Mine were, and we took advantage. The Grab BWhat use is it for a blogger to go to Disney, if not to come back and write a huge snarky takedown of the Happiest Place on Earth? So here it comes.
I didn’t like the coffee.
Is that pathetic or what? I spent seven days in the belly of the Mouse, and that’s the best I can come up with. Four days at the parks and three on the Disney Cruise and I’ve got bupkis. I’ve been back for days before getting around to this post, because I just couldn’t come grumpy, er, Grumpy.
Now the coffee was really abysmal. Corporate giant Disney made an exclusive deal with corporate giant Nestle to provide all the coffee at both the park and on the boat. The depth of my dependency was clear with every gulp of mass produced Taster’s Choice that I worried down. When, on a shore excursion, we passed a Starbucks, an audible collective moan went through the crowd as we were herded onto a catamaran.
Disney World, and the boat to a lesser extent, would be much less pleasant if people were not cattle. Because people, like cattle, prefer to sleep in when on vacation. Are most people’s kids not bouncing off the walls at the crack of dawn? Mine were, and we took advantage. The Grab Breakfast and Out the Door strategy meant that we were at the parks early and Mission Accomplished at the hotel by 1 or so, ready to hit the pool. Fastpass knowledge is something you need, but I refuse to geek on that here.
My youngest, Coop, will have trust issues for the rest of his life. With kids aged 9, 6, and 3, Disney Parents have a choice. Alternate sitting out of a ride or show to babysit the youngest, or coerce the unsuspecting youngster into ignoring the frequent PA warnings that the ride or show may be frightening to small children and drag them along. Say to my son, “Don’t worry, Coop, this won’t be scary” and watch him hide under a table.
If I ran the Pentagon, I would immediately render all residents of Gitmo to the 4D show called “It’s Hard to Be a Bug” and watch them confess. That damage may be permanent.
Overall Ease of Beer Acquisition: Good
Arrived at Epcot (back door) on the first day, walked about fifty yards into mini-England and found myself abreast of a mini-pub with full size curbside beer taps vending Harp and Bass. Good sign. The Magic Kingdom was pretty much the only place where you couldn’t find a refreshing mid-afternoon attitude adjustment. The Cruise, well, can’t really remember that.
I guess this is no surprise, but Disney is no place for child with a morbid terror of people in costumes. “Character Breakfast” is my daughter’s idea of hell. (My wife, too.) Must be hard to pick up on social cues inside one of those suits. If the child is cowering in fear, that is not an invitation for you to lean over and bonk them with the big plastic head for a “kiss.” Cue screams and tears.
My two favorite moments, and maybe this will not surprise you, were pure Disnified Hambone, cornball showbiz. The first event was called “Jedi Training Camp” or something similar — found in the Hollywood Studios park near the “Star Tours” ride. In this show, the Jedi Master invites a group of kids on stage to show them how to whirl around a plastic light saber. Hammy canned dialog with laff lines aplenty aimed at parents was classic Disney. Then, in a perfect moment of living vicariously, my son lived out my greatest childhood fantasy.
I also loved the uber-hokey “Hoop-Dee-Doo Review” because it involved a boat ride, fried chicken, ample brewskis, and a show so frozen in amber that not a single moment of choreography had changed since my wife watched the show as a girl (just a very few years ago).
I’m not sure I’m headed right back to the parks, but I’m all over that 7-day Disney Cruise as soon as I can find somebody to pay for it. This blog brought to you by Tutu and Sir. Many, many, many thanks.
