From Performances to Profits
Wished Upon the Wrong Star
When I was little, other kids wanted to be astronauts, firefighters, or doctors. Me? I wanted to be an entertainer at Disneyland. It wasn't just about the dark rides or the castle; it was the show. The music, the dancing, the characters that filled you with a kind of joy you'll remember forever. I never became an official entertainer (because let's be honest, I'm way better in the audience), though did manage to find myself in a few shows here and there—like when I danced alongside Louis in Tiana's Showboat Jubilee or when I got to wave with Kermit and Miss Piggy down the parade route. But these days, it feels like the magic is slowly slipping away, and not too many are talking about it.
Once a Stage, Now a Waiting Room
Here's the thing: Disneyland was never just a theme park. It was the destination. It became a place where you could slip into a world that felt alive. I remember strolling down Main Street, stopping to watch impromptu performances, or finding myself swept up in a parade with floats that felt like living, breathing works of art. The park was a canvas, and the performers were the strokes of color that brought it to life. But now? The parades are practically a drive-by. The grand productions have been replaced by cavalcades, short and unimpressive motorcades featuring whatever is being pushed on Disney+ that week. The dazzling stage shows are practically gone, downsized into throwaway dance parties, lasting only a few moments in comparison. And the street performers, those magical souls who made the park feel like something out of a dream? They're nowhere to be found.
It's as though executives have forgotten that the real magic wasn't in the rides. It was in the performance. There used to be moments when a group of singers would pop up to offer an impromptu escape, or a trolley full of dancers would suddenly appear in the middle of a crowd, and for just a brief moment, you'd feel connected to something larger than yourself. Now? It's just... quiet. The park seems to be holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And that's where the problem lies.
The Union Battle and the Decline of Magic
Now, let's talk about something that's been bothering me. Ever notice how the entertainment started disappearing around the time the performers were fighting to unionize? It might be a coincidence, but when the Cast Members stood up for better working conditions and fair pay, something in the air at Disneyland shifted. It's like the magic suddenly started fading the minute the performers got organized. Disney's response? A sharp, retaliatory cutback in live shows. Parades were chopped, street performances became a thing of the past, and soon enough, the park was quieter, less dynamic, and more commercial.
It's hard not to feel like this wasn't part of Disney's plan—less talent, fewer performances, less of the soul that made the park truly unique. Instead, what we're left with are upcharged experiences that include VIP tours, Lightning Lanes, and access to additional magic, but only if you've got the cash. And while there's nothing wrong with making a little money, when that becomes the driving force behind every decision, it's easy to see why the park no longer feels like a living, breathing piece of art.
Good, Clean Fun May Be Too Clean
Here's where it gets personal. As a queer millennial, Disneyland wasn't wasn't just for kids and their parents—it was for people like me, people who wanted to see themselves reflected in the magic, even if it was in the form of a cheeky villain or a character who might have been a little more fabulous than they let on. All of this has made the park feel inclusive; like, no matter who you were or who you loved, you could be a part of the story. But without the performers, without that showmanship, without that spontaneous creativity, it all feels like the park's losing the very thing that made it special for people like me.
Now, every corner feels scrubbed clean, sanitized for a wider audience, with less room for the unexpected magic that made Disneyland more than just a theme park. It feels less like a celebration of creativity and more like a branded experience to tick off a list. Maybe I'm just being nostalgic, but I'm starting to think that if Disney really wants to bring the magic back, they need to return to their roots: the performers. Because when the artists leave, it's not just the parades that fade; it's the soul of the park itself.
So, the real question is: Will Disney ever bring back the magic we remember, or are we destined to ride this wave of corporate sanitization until all that's left are long queues and overpriced churros?
Written by Daryl Marez | Hiya! Subscribe to my author newsletter to receive news & project updates—Check out my other links for more.