The Thrill Is Gone

(Originally written August 2008)

If you’re anything like us, you cringe whenever a critic’s rave review in the media or on the DVD case compares a movie to either a "thrill ride" or, specifically, a "roller coaster ride." Mildewed clichés like these, along with such baffling blurbs as "You’ll stand up and cheer!" (seriously, when was the last time you saw anyone rise to their feet and bellow a robust hurrah in a darkened theater, without at least being hastily ejected from said premises?) or, "You’ll laugh until your spleen bursts and your brain hemorrhages!" are long overdue for disposal in a fly-ridden trash can.

These thoughts come to mind as the dog days of summer witness the seasonal passing of country fairs, local carnivals and state fairs, their dusty midways proffering genuine thrill rides, some of which became featured "stars" in their own right in film thrillers. And that brings us to this evening’s screenings in the moviehouse.

Carousels

Our night on the midway starts, innocently enough, on the carousel, a children’s favorite. According to one source, "carousel" is the preferred term in North America, while "merry-go-round" is more common in Europe. The earliest carousel is represented in a bas-relief from the 6th-century Byzantine Empire, depicting riders suspended from a single pole. The Spanish word "carosella" ("little war") was used by Crusaders to describe a combat training exercise borrowed from 12th-century Turkish and Arabian equestrians. The once secret contraption utilized for these exercises was eventually built for the amusement of royalty in private gardens. By the 18th century, carousels featuring a menagerie of wood-crafted animals could be found at fairs and festivals throughout Europe.

Early 20th-century America witnessed the golden age of the carousel. Old World artisans, embracing the new freedoms of the United States, crafted exotic beasts, frozen in wildly expressive poses and set into motion by elaborately cumbersome machinery. Interestingly, merry-go-rounds in England and Europe rotate clockwise, while the North American counterparts typically turn counterclockwise.

In the moviehouse, Alfred Hitchcock fans vividly recall the runaway carousel in "Strangers on a Train" (1951), with good guy Farley Granger and creepy Robert Walker grappling on the ride-gone-berserk while a carny frantically crawls underneath to disable the ride, pausing (befitting Hitchcock’s skewed sense of humor) to light a cigarette.

A supernatural merry-go-round figured prominently in "Something Wicked This Way Comes," the 1983 screen version of Ray Bradbury’s nostalgically evocative novel, starring a sublimely cast Jason Robards as a small-town librarian and aging father, and a devilishly inspired Jonathan Pryce (left) as the owner of an eerie traveling carnival that offers Faustian temptations to gullible ticket-buyers. The tantalizing attractions include a carousel that allows riders to grow either younger or older depending on the rotation of the horses. Produced at a time when the Disney studio yearned to provide entertainment for mature audiences, the movie was deemed by critic Roger Ebert "a horror movie with elegance."

Ferris wheels

George Washington Gale Ferris Jr., a graduate of Troy, New York’s Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, started his career in the railroad industry before pursuing an interest in bridge building. He founded G.W.G Ferris & Co., which tested and inspected metals for railroads and bridges. (Right) He designed and constructed the first 264-foot wheel for the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893, in an attempt to rival the Eiffel Tower, which had been the main attraction at Paris’ Exposition Universelle of 1889.

A 17th-century work called The Travels of Peter Mundy described and depicted "several sorts of swings used in their public rejoicings" at a feast in the Ottoman Balkans, among the "less dangerous and troublesome" intended for children being a precursor of the Ferris wheel, upon which riders were seated on short swings that hung, trapeze-like, from the apparatus. Towering over the other venues and powered by a pair of steam engines, Ferris’ wheel featured 36 cars, carrying 60 people each (40 seated, 20 standing), accommodating a total of 2160 patrons, at 50 cents per ticket holder (almost $12 each in today’s economy). The axle alone weighed 70 tons, the largest steel forging of its time. Presently, the world’s largest Ferris wheel is the Singapore Flyer, looming 541 feet, while the Beijing Great Wheel, currently under construction, is promised to be a staggering 682 feet.

One of the most memorable scenes in the 1949 film noir classic "The Third Man," directed by Carol Reed and scripted by Graham Greene, occurs on Vienna’s renowned Wiener Riesenrad (German for "Vienna’s Great Wheel"). Shady con man Orson Welles and his duped friend Jospeh Cotten share an uneasy ride, during which Welles’ enigmatic character, Harry Lime (in a famous speech revered by film buffs, specifically written by Welles himself) observes, "In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love. They had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The cuckoo clock." The 200-foot-diameter Riesenrad was featured again, 38 years later, in the James Bond adventure "The Living Daylights."

In "1941," a painfully loud and abysmally humorless comedy about the threat of a Japanese attack on the coast of southern California, a mismatched pair of civil defense volunteers are perched in the top car of an enormous Ferris wheel at a Santa Monica amusement park. As if the inane bickering between actors Murray Hamilton (best known as the inept mayor in "Jaws") and Eddie Deezen (a popular geek in ‘80s cinema whose distinctive voice gave life to such animated characters as Mandark in "Dexter’s Laboratory" and Ned in "Kim Possible") isn’t annoying enough, Deezen has an equally irksome ventriloquist’s dummy. Director Steven Spielberg spared no expense in painstakingly recreating the Santa Monica park in miniature, just so he could have a Japanese submarine mistake it for an American industrial complex and blow the huge wheel off its hinges to send it careening off the end of the pier.

Roller coasters

The origins of the rolller coaster reach as far back to ice slides of 17th-century Russia. "Russian Mountains," as they were called, were human-made mounds of ice, constructed especially around Saint Petersburg. Built up to a height of between 70 and 80 feet and reinforced with wooden supports, the slides offered a 50-degree drop, serving as a popular distraction for Russia’s elite. Empress Catherine the Great (right) had to have a number of such slides constructed on her personal property.

It remains debatable as to who first adapted this diversion to wheels. Some accounts claim that the first real roller coaster was commissioned by Catherine in 1784. Other historians attribute the innovation to the French, although "Russian mountains" remains the term for roller coasters in Spanish, Italian, Portugese and French. Interestingly, the Russian word itself for roller coaster translates literally as "American mountains."

In 1827, a Pennsylvania mining company constructed the Mauch Chunk Switchback Gravity Railroad, a brakeman-controlled eight-and-a-half-mile downhill track used to deliver coal. By the 1850s, the "Gravity Road" provided recreational rides to the public for a cost of 50 cents each. Other railway companies soon used similar tracks to provide revenue when business was slow. A gravity switchback railway opened at Brooklyn’s Coney Island in 1884 (above) and was soon replaced by a complete oval circuit with a chain lift-powered hill, which became the park’s most popular attraction. The first vertically looping coaster had premiered in Paris, from a British design, in 1846, while the concept was further explored in the U.S. in the late 1800s.

The Great Depression of the 1930s saw the end of the heyday for roller coasters, at a time when theme parks overall underwent a general decline. It would be another four decades before roller coaster enthusiasts would enjoy a renaissance that continues today.

The 1953 science-fiction thriller "The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms" predated "Godzilla" by at least a year as one of the first creature features about atomic bomb explosions awakening prehistoric dinosaurs or creating monstrous mutations of nature. In a script inspired by a Ray Bradbury short story and featuring special effects by stop-motion animation legend Ray Harryhausen, an Arctic Circle nuclear test thaws a fictional dinosaur dubbed a "Rhedosaurus," which subsequently journeys to Manhattan. The irradiated monster trashes the amusement park on Coney Island before a military sharpshooter, played by then little-known Lee Van Cleef (a real-life World War II Navy veteran who achieved unexpected stardom in the Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns "For a Few Dollars More" and "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly"), armed with a radioactive isotope launcher (don’t ask), perilously rides the roller coaster to its highest point and mortally wounds the unwelcome tourist as the surrounding park crumbles in flames.

As pointed out by Allmovie critic Donald Guarisco, "Rollercoaster" has often been "lumped in" the disaster movie cycle of the 1970s that included "The Poseidon Adventure," "The Towering Inferno" and "Earthquake," but the 1977 film worked better as a suspense thriller, thanks in no small part to the cat-and-mouse screenplay by Richard A. Levinson and William Link, the crafty wordsmiths responsible for "Columbo’s" most memorable cases. Angel-faced Timothy Bottoms ("The Last Picture Show," "The Paper Chase") portrays a chillingly ingenious extortionist with a penchant for planting radio-controlled explosives on roller coasters. On his trail is George Segal as a rumpled safety inspector with more than a passing resemblance to Peter Falk’s Columbo. This was one of only four motion pictures featuring Universal Studios’ mercifully short-lived Sensurround, along with "Earthquake," "Midway" and the big-screen version of the original "Battlestar Gallactica." The seat-jarring sensation enhanced the depiction of coaster rides "Rebel Yell" in Kings Dominion, Doswell, Virginia, "Revolution" in Ocean View Amusement Park, Norfolk, Virginia, and "The Rocket" in Valenica, California’s Six Flags Magic Mountain.

On a note of trivia, Helen Hunt (Best Actress Oscar winner for "As Good as It Gets") made her feature film debut in "Rollercoaster" as Segal’s adolescent daughter. The movie also spotlighted an onscreen performance by the novelty pop band Sparks (right), allegedly stepping in for Kiss, who turned down the gig. Brothers Ron and Russell Mael, who made up Sparks, would later single out their participation in the movie as the biggest regret of their career.

"Final Destination 3" (2006), the latest in a trilogy (so far - a fourth installment is planned for summer 2009) about stupid teens (or 20-somethings trying to pass themselves off as teenagers) trying to cheat death, only, of course, to meet exorbitantly gruesome demises, starts with a young woman’s premonition about a tragic roller coaster ride. Sure enough, there’s a horrible accident on "Devil’s Flight" (in reality "The Corkscrew" at Vancouver’s Playland Amusement Park), and the last-minute survivors spend the rest of this "Dead Teenager Movie" (to quote Roger Ebert) trying in vain to elude the grim (and particularly grisly) reaper.

Funhouses

Most people think of a funhouse as a midway attraction that simulates a scare-filled journey through a haunted environment, although historically, the original funhouse was an off-kilter obstacle course which challenged unwary patrons’ trust in their own senses and in gravity itself. The most popular of these unsettling mechanisms included a large revolving barrel one would try to emerge from without falling, rocking floors with undulating boards, or a floor section that would suddenly become a spinning disk, stairs that tipped from side to side, compressed air jets on the floor, a chamber of distorting mirrors, along with a giant slide, some as high as two stories, made of polished wood and requiring burlap mats. Once inside, people could stay as long as they wanted, while some funhouses provided benches for those who enjoyed watching and laughing at their friends’ mishaps.

Later attractions affected a walk through a scary house, highlighted with appropriate lighting, sounds, music and special effects. Over time, haunted venues broadened their perspective to include such frightening surroundings as abandoned asylums, prisons and factories, while outdoor spooky trails through parks and reserves, including cornfield mazes, also rose in popularity. Eventually, indoor haunted attractions at fairs and carnivals incorporated the concept of "dark rides," which transported riders in guided vehicles through an enclosed, artificially lit setting.

"The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," the original 1974, low-budget exercise in full-tilt, visceral terror, indelibly altered the way horror movies were made and sent director Tobe Hooper to Hollywood. Following a popular and chilling television adaptation of Stephen King’s "Salem’s Lot," Hooper directed a modest but no less frightening horror outing titled "The Funhouse" (1981). The premise was deviously simplistic - two young couples plan to spend the night in the funhouse of a sleazy carnival, only to run afoul to the creepy owner and his monstrous offspring. (Below) The father was played by the marvelous character actor Kevin Conway ("Gettysburg," "The Quick and the Dead"), who, in a stroke of devilishly inspired casting, pops up as other carnies on the midway. Hooper effectively evoked the unsettling atmosphere of low-rent carnivals, from the cheesy freaks-of-nature sideshow to a third-rate magic act (featuring actor William Finley, a cult film fan favorite who appeared in director Brian DePalma’s "Sisters," "The Phantom of the Paradise" and "The Fury").

"Dark Ride" (2006), part of After Dark Horrorfest’s "8 Films to Die For" series, was a pale imitation of the far superior "The Funhouse," if not yet one more needless and lifeless retread of the "Dead Teenager Movie," featuring a cookie-cutter killer-in-a-mask (enough with masks already!) and a yawner of a surprise ending a 12-year-old could see coming all the way around the corn dog stand.

Dark rides actually began to appear in the late 1800s, when they were called "scenic" or "pleasure" railways. One of the most popular dark rides in the early 20th century was the Tunnel of Love, with small boats that carried couples through relaxing, watery canals. Although they gradually became less common, the Tunnel of Love was the predecessor of one of the most well-known and favorite attractions in all the Disney theme parks…

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pirates of the Caribbean was the last park attraction Walt Disney himself personally contributed to the design of. He never enjoyed the completed project himself, as he passed away three months before it opened. The original 1950s concept of a walk-through wax museum of historical pirates became, after the 1964 New York World’s Fair, a boat ride featuring audio-animatronic characters in comical skits of fictional piracy, and it opened to the public in Disneyland on March 18, 1967.

In 2003, Johnny Depp gave an Oscar-nominated performance as the fictitious Captain Jack Sparrow in "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl," the first feature film inspired by a Disney theme park venue. The first Disney release to receive a PG-13 rating, it became a surprise box office hit, grossing over $650 million worldwide. Two sequels followed, with "Dead Man’s Chest" (2006) earning an Academy Award for Best Special Effects, while the trilogy in total grossed over $2.6 billion.

The screenwriters of "The Curse of the Black Pearl" originally pitched their concept of a film based on the popular attraction in the early 1990s, attracting the attention of Steven Spielberg, who supposedly wanted to cast Bill Murray, Robin Williams or Steve Martin in the lead. The Disney studio, however, was producing "Muppet Treasure Island" and didn’t want to get involved with another pirate-themed movie at the time. When the picture was finally given the green light, the directing assignment went to Gore Verbinski, who recalled childhood memories of the ride and looked forward to paying tribute to the "scary and funny" experience, as well as utilizing modern technology to help breathe new life into a Hollywood genre that virtually disappeared decades earlier. Several anticipated the movie to be a failure, pointing to "Cutthroat Island," a 1995 colossal flop (starring Geena Davis) that capsized a production company. "The Curse of the Black Pearl" became the fourth highest grossing film of 2003.

The Haunted Mansion

The Haunted Mansion (the park attraction), which was finished in August of 1969, was actually first conceived before Disneyland was even built. The initial design of Walt’s park depicted a crooked road leading away from Main Street, past a church and graveyard, to a decrepit mansion atop a hill (right). In its development stages, arguments persisted over whether the attraction should be frightening or funny, and in the end, both sides got their way, in a scary adventure full of silly gags, showcasing special effects and audio-animatronic spirits. After Walt’s death in 1966, the idea of a walk-through tour was replaced by the use of Omnimover vehicles called "Doom Buggies" on a track. The Haunted Mansion (left) has remained essentially unchanged for years.

On the heels of the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie, Disney cranked out "The Haunted Mansion," prompting critic Keith Phipps of the A.V. Club to remark, "Sure, making a movie out of a Disney theme-park ride didn’t sound promising, but that didn’t stop ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ from turning out much better than it had any right to be." The hastily pasted-up plot finds Eddie Murphy in his family-friendly mode (think "Dr. Dolittle" and "Daddy Day Care") adrift in a sea of atmospherically spooky set designs and art direction and outstanding computer-generated special effects.

Directed by Rob Minkoff, an animation director for "The Lion King" who went on to make the "Stuart Little" films, as well as the Jackie Chan-Jet Li action flick "The Forbidden Kingdom," "The Haunted Mansion" grossed barely a quarter of the earnings from the first "Pirates" movie. Although critic Roger Ebert couldn’t bring himself to recommend the film, he did admire its surprising ambition to be "more than a movie version of the ride. I expected an inane series of nonstop action sequences, but what I got was a fairly intriguing story and an actual plot that is actually resolved." The New York Times critic Elvis Mitchell, however, commented on the picture’s "rejection of conventional staples like laughs or scares," lacking "even the cheesy fear quotient that a movie like ‘Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy’ could dredge up." The A.V. Club’s Keith Phipps remarked, "Unlike the original Haunted Mansion attraction, it’s not a good thrill ride, nonsensically plotted but paced like a throbbing headache so no one will notice."

Tower of Terror

Lastly, we end this thrilling day in the moviehouse at the Tower of Terror, also known as The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, a freefall ride which opened in 1994 at Disney’s Hollywood Studios in Florida and in 2004 at Disney’s Adventure Park in California. The imposing edifice of the attraction represents the fictional Hollywood Tower Hotel, which was supposedly struck by lightning on Halloween night in 1939, transporting riders in an elevator to the Twilight Zone.
At Disneyland, the 183-foot attraction is the resort’s tallest, as well as Anaheim’s tallest building. The Tower of Terror looms over Walt Disney World at 199 feet, only a half-foot shorter than the resort’s Expedition Everest. Listen carefully at either site and you can hear a distinct whirring - that’s not the noise of the ride’s machinery, it’s the sound of Rod Serling spinning in his grave.

Six years before launching the first "Pirates" picture, Disney tested the waters for audience interest in a film based on a thrill ride with the 1997 made-for-TV movie "Tower of Terror," starring Steve Guttenberg as a tabloid reporter and a 15-year-old Kirsten Dunst (costar of the popular "Spider-Man" trilogy). Guttenberg, best known for his starring role in four of the "Police Academy" comedies, made his feature film debut in the previously mentioned "Rollercoaster." The Hollywood Reporter dubbed "Tower of Terror," "A Thrill Ride!" - which is as much of a nuance as calling "Romeo and Juliet" a tragedy or "60 Minutes" a news-hour.

Elvis Mitchell, of The New York Times, once posited, "It’s clearly only a matter of time before ‘Parking Lot: The Movie’ and ‘People-Mover: The Motion Picture.’" (There was, in fact, a 2002 live-action film based on Disney’s Country Bear Jamboree, featuring the talents of Haley Joel Osmont, Brad Garrett and Christopher Walken, the less said of which the better.) Finally, on a grateful note, Hollywood has yet to deliver on the dreaded movie based on Disney’s "It’s a Small World."