.
Probably
the most obvious form of family ride, however, would be the dark ride.
Even this, however, is very easy to get wrong. As fabulous as it
undoubtedly is, the unashamedly dark nature of Alton Towers’ Hex it
would always be risky to put young children through something quite so
sinister, making it a rare example of a supposed family ride that is
actually more suited to adults.
Similarly, Blackpool Pleasure Beach’s
Magic Mountain is spectacular in that its attempts to present a cute and
charming ride backfire so badly as to leave every single rider
psychologically scarred for life. At least you leave Hex knowing that it
was meant to be sinister. God only knows what Magic Mountain is
meant to be, but in reality it simply comes across as an even more
warped and terrifying version of Disney’s patented LSD simulator,
It’s A Small World, and the kind of thing normally only found in the
evil fairground from an episode of Scooby Doo. Honestly, I get the
creeps just writing about it.
So,
what does it take to build a dark ride that appeals to all? Look no
further than Chessington’s magnificent Professor Burp’s Bubbleworks.
The reasons for the prof’s success are legion, in that the theme is
one that is neither childish nor sinister, and involves no storyline for
riders to interpret or memorise. Instead, the whole thing is simply a
glorious celebration of wonderfully abysmal and timeless jokes, all set
to a backdrop that is colourful enough to appeal to children, but kitsch
and camp enough to make adults realise that the ride has no intention of
taking itself remotely seriously. The whole thing feels like a joyous
pantomime, which children can enjoy on its most literal level, while
adults revel in the ironic lunacy of it all.
Best of all, whereas a
story-led ride like Hex is inherently not very re-ridable, you could
ride the Bubbleworks all day long, and the sheer volume of jokes and
other unsignposted touches means that you will always spot something you
don’t remember seeing before. You get the impression that the
designers of the Bubbleworks had a ball creating it, and this makes
riding it all the more pleasurable.
For
a more refined dark ride with no less appeal, it has to be Blackpool’s
River Caves (possibly the first time the words “refined” and
“Blackpool” have appeared in the same sentence). Like Bubbleworks,
the River Caves demands nothing from the rider in terms of having to
memorise or decode any form of storyline, and instead relies on creating
a wonderfully ambient atmosphere, through the use of some surprisingly
intricate scenes, and revealing something of the soul that makes the
Pleasure Beach such a wonderful place. If the Bubbleworks is the perfect
ride to put you into a manic mood, the River Caves does an equally
brilliant job as a “chill-out” ride, something that is quite welcome
given how frantic the Pleasure Beach atmosphere can get.
To
demonstrate the supremacy of the Bubbleworks and River Caves, it is
necessary to compare them with the least successful dark ride
imaginable, and surprisingly it is Blackpool Pleasure Beach that offers
two of the very worst. The first is the sheer trauma of the
aforementioned Magic Mountain, a ride so twisted and evil that its
designers deserve to be imprisoned, if only for their own protection.
As
for the second, well, if Valhalla fails abysmally as a water ride, then
it also has the indignity of being the worst dark ride too. Not only
does the whole thing lack continuity, but the unrelenting seriousness
and aggression makes the whole thing feel genuinely inhospitable.
Any
comparisons to Alton Towers' Hex show the subtle difference between something that is
sinister and something that is simply unpleasant. More pointedly, the notorious
unreliability of Valhalla’s various effects means that sections of the
ride are often conducted in total darkness, whereas comparable breakdowns
on the River Caves or Bubbleworks do nothing to spoil the atmosphere or
the jokes.
Probably
the most annoying use of the term “family ride” comes when a park
clearly builds nothing more than a kiddie ride, and advertises it as
“family friendly” for no other reason than that the seats are big
enough to seat adults. The fact that nobody could possibly want
to ride it once they’re too old to believe in the tooth fairy seems to
have no bearing on the matter. How a real family group is supposed to
enjoy the likes of Toadie’s Crazy Cars at Chessington, for example, is
a mystery, but didn’t stop the park using the f-word to promote it.
Another odd example from the park “Where Families Come First” is
Beanoland. I have nothing against the Beano, and indeed was a proud
member of the Dennis the Menace Fan Club (perhaps I still am, as there
was no expiry date on my membership card), and nor do I have anything
against the park having a kiddie area, but Beanoland is neither one
thing or the other. The theming is obviously intended solely for
children, yet it has one of the best true family rides in the
park, in Billy's Whizzers Wave Swinger. In other words, while Crazy Cars
is a kiddie ride presented as a family attraction, the Wave Swinger is
the precise opposite.
The
final type of supposed family ride is that where the term is used as a
last resort, where no other marketing approach will work. In other
words, the rides that were meant to be thrillers, but which get marketed
as being for families simply because they turned out to be less
thrilling than expected. No ride sums this up more than Alton Towers’
Air. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who looked at the model of Air
in 2001 and looked forward to something thrilling. I certainly don’t
recall anything telling me to expect anything else.
Yet, once the first
passengers had ridden, things changed. Suddenly we were expected to
believe that it was designed as a mellow ride, to be enjoyed by
everyone, not just thrill-seekers. The fact that, to the untrained eye,
the ride looks far more terrifying than Nemesis seemed not to matter.
A
less famous example of this came with Big Ben, the Shot & Drop style
tower ride touring the UK fairs. The Huss-made original is a perfectly
good thrill ride, particularly when injected with the inimitable
fairground razzamatazz, and pre-publicity for this Zamperla-built clone
indicated that it would be just as good. But it wasn’t. In fact, it
was awful. Again, though, that word “family” came to the rescue. In
these cases, you can at least see the owners’ dilemma. If I had spent
millions on a new ride, and found myself lumbered with a duffer, I
imagine I’d do the same, but that doesn’t make it any easier for
families to search out something that will really bring them together.
Continues...
|