Creature Feature

In Disney’s world, evolution has proceeded from the squeak of a cartoon mouse to the roar of a live lion. Yet whether the creatures are animated or real, one character trait will always dominate this species: fantasy.

Welcome to Animal Kingdom, Disney’s newest theme park, opened April 22, celebrating creatures alive, extinct and imaginary. There is an engaging African safari adventure through herds of wild animals, a thrill ride with animatronic dinosaurs and a crashing asteroid, plus live entertainment based on Disney’s own celluloid creations, “The Lion King” and “The Jungle Book.”

The $800-million park is both bold and familiar, but also dramatically different from its Walt Disney World predecessors--Magic Kingdom, EPCOT Center and Disney-MGM--which transformed the cow pastures of Orlando into an international tourist mecca. But this is not the Magic Kingdom with animal acts. Nor does it seem to be Disney’s response to the heart-stopping rides under construction at its cross-town rival, Universal Studios.

Yes, Minnie and Mickey are here, dressed for the occasion in camp shirts, but you really have to go out of your way to find them. Instead of the gaudy amusement-park stimulation of Magic Kingdom to the north, this kingdom has a more carefully cultivated use of colors and sounds. “The March of the Animals” parade here compares to the daily Magic Kingdom extravaganza the way a museum would to a circus.

EPCOT-style evocations of a World’s Fair, with wide vistas and sense of coherence, are swapped here for winding trails and the serendipity of adventure. The trick of the Disney-MGM Studios park to the south--which is to take you behind the scenes of an illusion--has been abandoned for a close-up look at nature and a clear message to preserve the environment. (No straws or plastic lids, which can cause animal deaths from choking, are used on park grounds.)

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It’s the precision of the pretend authenticity at Animal Kingdom that makes it easier to suspend disbelief. The paths are uneven and even puddled. Much of the food is themed, with huge turkey legs sold as “dinosaur bones” and ice cream pops with the trademark paw print of Simba (the lion prince who grows up to be king). But for once there is something that Disney, the corporate personification of a control freak, can’t script: live animals.

Even though the beasts all have been obtained from zoos, and many are trained to go into shelters at night, management can’t make them appear during your 20-minute safari ride. While the recreated savanna is cleaned and raked every night, piles of elephant dung were on view one afternoon. And several animals died just before the park’s debut last month, damaging the carefully controlled public relations campaign. Just like pixie dust, however, the U.S. Department of Agriculture cleared Disney of any wrongdoing right on opening day.

Dung and death aside, Animal Kingdom is unmistakably from the same company that has idealized America’s vision of the wild and greatly shaped its popular culture. If you accept Disney’s sentimentalism, you’ll enjoy Animal Kingdom.

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The entry point is called the Oasis, and your first impression is that of a zoological, rather than amusement, park. Lush vegetation lines a winding trail past waterfalls, streams, exotic birds and small animals that are separated from visitors by barriers both seen (fences) and unseen (camouflaged gulches too wide for the animals to jump). I took a small path off the trails, went through a cave, took a narrow rope bridge over a stream, only to come face to face with a creamy white macaw.

The two trails from the Oasis lead to Safari Village, the hub of the park from which all spokes radiate, and its centerpiece, the Tree of Life. This 145-foot-high concrete form, built on an oil rig superstructure, has 8,000 branches to which more than 100,000 fabric leaves were attached. The trunk is an intricately carved tapestry of 325 animals. Housed in its base, a dark and cool respite from the Florida sun, is a movie theater showing a titanic hit, “It’s Tough to Be a Bug.”

So far, this hilarious 3-D animated film about insects is getting the best buzz of anything in the park. Clever bugs put on a vaudeville show to convince the audience they really are not so bad, a conservationist message that is never preachy.

While the Tree of Life is the park’s geographic center, the village of Harambe, meant to evoke a Swahili-influenced East African port city, is really the high point. Go through the bustling marketplace with its thatched reed roofs--woven by Zulu--to get to the reason why you came: the Kilimanjaro Safari ride.

There, an open-sided lorry took our two daughters, my husband Peter and me for a 20-minute ride though 100 acres of rolling terrain transplanted with trees, ferns and grasses. While most of the vegetation is real, the massive baobab trees and rock formations are painted concrete. Hidden in tree stumps are feeders to keep the animals near the road and in view.

Our first trip, in late morning, was disappointing. A rare black-and-white monkey in a tree, some rhinoceros snouts poking out of a pond. Giraffes and zebras in the distance. The lorry never seemed to slow down enough to get a picture. However, it was the only time we saw the lion and his mate, incredibly perched on a construct suggesting “Pride Rock” from “The Lion King.” Halfway through the safari, however, I thought of my chiropractor, and how much cheaper it would have been to go to the Bronx Zoo.

Our second time on the safari in late afternoon was much better. By now, we knew where to look for some of the beasts, and this driver slowed down a bit. A zebra would have been within arm’s reach, a herd of giraffes were moving through the brush, as were ostriches, antelopes and gazelles. Farther on, two baby elephants were standing together on an overpass looking down at us. Our daughters were pointing from side to side. OK, much more fun than a zoo, I thought.

On another day, we took the safari again. It was high noon and supposedly the worst time to see the animals, but the estimated waiting time of only 10 minutes was too tempting. This time the lorry had to stop as the giraffes crossed the road and walked alongside our truck, almost close enough to pet.

Then came more than a dozen zebras grazing together, so many it looked like Op Art. Rhinos wandered though the bushes. Down the road, two huge African elephants, with white tusks, were drinking at a watering hole. One raised its trunk and flapped its ears, so perfect a scene I suspected a sensor somewhere. “I love this vacation,” said Teresa, 6, one of our twin daughters.

If the animals are abundant on your trip, you might overlook the cliched script Disney imposes on what is a very peaceful experience. At the beginning of the ride, the lorry driver feigns two-way communication--complete with annoying radio crackle--with a bush pilot who sights poachers trying to get a baby elephant named “Little Red.” As you exit the preserve, a Jeep full of good guys rushes past, and some actor with a gun captures the bad guys. An animatronic “Little Red,” looking like an extra from “Dumbo,” moves its head from side to side in the back of a pickup.

By the third ride, our other daughter, Claire, said “not that game again.”

An exit path from the safari leads directly to Gorilla Falls, aptly named for the apes and the engineered falls. The bachelors are kept separate from the family of apes, lest things get too wild in the kingdom. Much less compelling than the safari but no less hyped is Countdown to Extinction, a three-minute ride in the dark that is supposed to make you feel like you’re in “Jurassic Park.” It’s another attraction that top Disney writers must have had nothing to do with; not only is the script hokey, the narration is much too loud.

As you travel back to prehistoric times, a small meteor knocks your all-terrain vehicle off course, and it spins out of control past menacing claws and jaws and falling trees. Not really a roller coaster, it just lurches and twists as your eyes adjust to the different flashes. With such sensory overload you never really have the chance to get frightened by the animatronic dinosaurs.

If Countdown was planned as the main event in the Dinoland, U.S.A., section of the park, it is eclipsed by the Boneyard, a wonderful children’s playground designed like an excavation site. The kids can play on a half-dug-out Tyrannosaurus rex or slide around on other “fossils.” There is scaffolding to climb, ropes and bridges to maneuver--and only threats that we would miss the “The Jungle Book” show got my daughters out. There is no age limit to enter, but the playground is so inviting that frisky adults are being reminded that it is for kids.

The park’s two main live shows, “Journey Into the Jungle Book” and “The Festival of the Lion King,” are as different as Main Street, U.S.A., is from 42nd Street, NYC. Like Disney’s traveling ice shows, they both use the familiar songs from the movies and in both a trampoline provides the action. “The Jungle Book” is very much like the “Beauty and the Beast” show at Disney-MGM Studios. But “The Lion King” presentation seems modernized by the successful Broadway musical.

Next to the Lion King theater is Camp Minnie-Mickey, inexplicably designed in an Adirondack theme, right down to the crossed-twig fencing.

Animal Kingdom is five times the size of Disney’s first theme park, the original Disneyland. And it is not even finished. By next year they hope to fantasize another continent, Asia, with the Mararajah’s Jungle Trek and Tiger Rapids, a white-water flume ride. That opens up the possibility of tigers. But, even surrounded by rare and endangered big cats, give the odds to the Mouse.

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GUIDEBOOK

Disney’s Kingdom

Getting there: Nonstop service LAX-Orlando on Delta and United; direct service (one stop, no plane change) on Southwest and US Airways; connecting service on Continental, American, Northwest, TWA and America West. Fares begin at $418 round trip.

Walt Disney World, including Animal Kingdom, is southwest of Orlando. Take Interstate 4 to U.S. 192 west to the Disney entrance on World Drive.

Tips for seeing it: Although bigger in acreage than the other Disney theme parks, Animal Kingdom can be seen in one day. It’s the first Disney park to open at 7 a.m.; park hours are 7 a.m.-8 p.m. daily.

Early morning is turning out to be the busiest, with more than a one-hour wait for the Kilimanjaro Safari. But the first two (morning) shows of “Festival of the Lion King” are the easiest to get into. There also is a character breakfast in Dinoland. Head to the safari ride while everyone is taking their mid-day meal.

The park is attracting many Florida day trippers, so avoid weekends if possible. The open air theater for “The Jungle Book” can accommodate large crowds, catches a rare breeze and sells ice cream and snacks, so it’s a good spot for a break. With small children, eat in Dinoland; it has the most fast food, and your kids can play in the Boneyard.

What it costs: One-day pass to Animal Kingdom or any of the other parks for anyone over 10: $42.52; children 3-9: $36.04. Free under 3. Four-day pass (entrance to any park on any day, but not into two different parks on the same day) for adults: $157.94; children 3-9: $126.14. Five-day hopper pass (to go anywhere on any day) for adults: $200.34; children 3-9: $160.06.

Multi-park logistics: After seeing Disney-MGM Studios or Animal Kingdom, the parks that close early, take the monorail to Epcot for dining in the different country pavilions and the 9 p.m. light show. At summer’s peak, the Magic Kingdom is open until midnight, often the best time for beating the crowds and the heat.

For more information: For general information, call (407) 934-7639.

Visit Florida, P.O. Box 1100, Tallahassee, FL 32302; tel. (888) 7FLAUSA or (850) 488-5607, fax (850) 224-2938.

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Bargains in Orlando: Where to find other family activities without spending a lot of money. L18