Supermodels

Legoland California is a theme park with a premise as simple as a Lego brick: Kids and parents deserve some respect. In other words, don’t scare the bejabbers out of the little ones; challenge older kids with attractions that demand some thought; feed everybody well; and give mom and dad a break from the abusive, wallet-draining hucksterism that pervades modern theme parks.

For the most part, it works.

Yes, this is an amusement park designed, owned and operated by one of the most recognizable names in the toy business. In 1997, the Danish Lego Group earned worldwide revenues of $1.1 billion selling its famous plastic bricks to children--and adults--in 138 countries. And the company makes no secret of the fact that the Carlsbad park can help boost sales even further. When Legoland Windsor opened in 1996, for instance, Lego saw “double digit” growth in its toy business in England.

Make no mistake: The park, which opens Saturday, is a 128-acre altar to Lego. But unlike the Saturday morning cartoon shows with shameless product tie-ins, Legoland California operates so subtly and intelligently that most parents don’t seem to mind. And most kids are oblivious. Perhaps that’s because Legoland California really is a different kind of theme park.

In an era when parks like Disneyland and Magic Mountain compete to have the biggest, most expensive thrill rides in Southern California, Legoland takes the opposite approach. Its rides are decidedly tame--the most daring being a short “pink knuckle” roller coaster called the Dragon. Instead, kids spend time exploring tombs, or hoisting themselves to the top of a 35-foot tower, or pedaling fantastic creations around an elevated track, or marveling at 1/20th-scale models of American landmarks--all made out of Lego. Here’s some perspective: The $130 million it cost to build Legoland California is only slightly more than Universal Studios spent in 1996 on its “Jurassic Park” ride.

Says Legoland California’s president, Bob Montgomery: “It’s a more intimate park.”

The approach has worked for Lego at its two other parks in Windsor and outside its headquarters in Billund, Denmark. It remains to be seen whether it works in Southern California, where kids are weaned on the adrenaline of the Matterhorn and the spectacle of flaming sound stages. Two weeks ago, a group of Southern California kids and their parents visited the park with me and a photographer during a preview day. Our mission: To see whether Legoland was any fun.

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Like Lego itself, the park is not cheap. Adult admission runs $32. For kids under 16 and seniors over 60, it’s $25. Parking runs $6 per car, $10 for spots near the entrance. It’s cheaper than Disneyland, but there’s also less to do. On average, guests at Lego’s other parks stay about six hours, 35 minutes. Our group spent six hours in the park--and although we managed to hit all the highlights, we felt rushed and had to skip a few things we wanted to see and do. Because so many of the rides depend on interactivity or move riders through in defined batches, the waits can be relatively long.

Overall, though, Legoland is small enough to navigate easily, and it’s possible to at least see everything on a first visit. “Our guests have small legs,” Montgomery says. “They can’t go for 10 or 12 hours.” Like the other two parks, Legoland California boasts attractions that appeal to different ages--although “an 8-year-old boy is most blown away by the park,” Montgomery says. Our group included three boys--ages 6 to 9--and one 9-year-old girl.

The most common assessment from 6-year-old Timmy Colvin was “cool!” But not every kid thinks so. All of the parents in our group were struck by who was not at the park on the day we visited: teenagers. Legoland California does not expect the crowds of young people that flock to other theme parks. At Lego’s European parks, for instance, just 5% of visitors are between 15 and 24. Says park spokeswoman Chamara Pittman: “We managed to create an uncool environment.”

Unless, of course, you are 8--or still think you are.

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Themed areas with names like Village Green, Fun Town and Castle Hill surround a man-made lake at the center of the park. On the far shores lie intricate Lego models of the Sydney Opera House, the Taj Mahal and the Eiffel Tower. All can be viewed up close on a boat tour that also passes the Statue of Liberty and Mt. Rushmore. The main entry court--aptly named the Beginning--houses lockers, restrooms and, of course, shops. Even in the entry court, Legoland makes it clear to guests that this is no ordinary theme park. The Market Place convenience store sells bananas, apples and oranges--hardly traditional theme park fare. There are family restrooms, and the men’s room has a diaper changing table. Fun-house mirrors make even a potty break an adventure.

From the entry court, visitors are guided left around the lake, which hosts a red dinosaur built from 250,000 Lego bricks. Because most people have a natural tendency to veer right at a crossroads, park designers put the entry court at an angle that would direct more people to the left. One of the reasons: Miniland, the heart and soul of the park, lies to the right, and designers wanted visitors to see it at the end of the day. But the architectural nudge works a little too well, and early crowds create bottlenecks. Advice: Go right and see the park in reverse.

Our group learned the hard way. The Village Green themed area includes the most traditional rides in the park: Fairy Tale Brook and Safari Trek. Fairy Tale Brook carries riders down a stream on a lily pad, past scenes from stories such as “The Three Little Pigs,” which unfold in Lego models. Of course, the only house the wolf could not blow down this time was made of Lego. It’s the same idea on Safari Trek, except little jeeps follow a track through a jungle populated with life-size animal models made of Lego. The kids in our group were more impressed by Water Works, a play area featuring kinetic fountains and many water cannons.

Up the hill from Village Green is the Ridge, a giant pile of dirt in the middle of the park. The walkway connecting the two is one of many “peaceful clusters” located throughout Legoland. The idea is to give kids a break between activities, so each “peaceful cluster” is landscaped with big trees. There are no concession carts or food stands, allowing kids time to decompress before the next set of thrills.

At the top of the Ridge are two of the most unusual rides at Legoland: Kid Power Tower and Sky Cycle. The Kid Power Tower lets kids pull themselves and a parent to the top of a 35-foot tower that offers a great view of the park and the ocean beyond. It can be scary to some kids. For instance, 7-year-old Reid Clow refused to go, and 9-year-old Kyle Boots did not have much fun. “It was just too high,” he said. “I think a lot of people might get scared.” Nobody got scared on Sky Cycle, on which partners pedal around an elevated track that circles the Ridge and offers great glimpses of Miniland.

Perhaps the most daring ride in Legoland is Driving School, in which kids from 6 to 12 learn the rules of the road and then hit the streets in their own electric cars. Because there are no tracks to follow, kids have complete control and must obey the rules of the road. (The same idea is repeated in Skipper School, except kids pilot boats around a water course.) Parents can watch from a viewing stand or sip coffee from the nearby Fun Town Market. Every kid in our group thought the ride was too short.

Also in Fun Town is the Adventurers’ Club, where kids wander through a tomb in search of Lego keys. Lego hieroglyphics include pharaohs playing basketball and listening to boomboxes. The Adventurers’ Club is the most brazenly commercial attraction in the park. The tomb empties into a shop that features merchandise from Lego’s Adventurers toy line.

But that sort of manipulation is rare. Park designers strive to downplay the immediate connection between the attractions and the merchandise. Montgomery says an average family will spend about half again as much as the admission price on souvenirs and food. Shops feature traditional souvenirs as well as Lego sets. The Big Shop, for instance, offers the largest selection of Lego products in the United States. Prices are about the same as retail. A Legoland sweatshirt set me back $40. But even on our visit--when the park hosted less than 20% of its 15,000-person capacity--the Big Shop was jammed at the end of the day. Advice: Shop early and have the park hold merchandise for pickup at the end of the day. There’s no extra charge.

In general, the service at the park tries hard to live up to Lego founder Ole Kirk Christiansen’s motto that “only the best is good enough.” The ethos abounds in Legoland’s restaurants. Clearly, the park’s menus aim for the yuppie palate. Everything is prepared fresh--and it’s delicious. Visitors can order salads that would not be out of place at a full-service, mid-priced restaurant. The pizza is cooked in a wood-fired oven just like the one Wolfgang Puck uses. And meals in two of the four restaurants are served on china with real knives and forks--not Styrofoam and plastic.

All of this has a price, however. Although meals for kids average a little over $5, our group was struck by the size of the servings. It seemed as if someone had rendered our lunches in 1/20th scale. And the delays can be frightful. At Brickolini’s Pizza, for instance, it took 15 minutes to get our food and cash out. Part of this stemmed from a novice kitchen staff, but the layout of the ordering and serving areas made it difficult to maneuver and held up people in line. Advice: Eat on off hours to avoid delays.

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The biggest draw for adults in Fun Town is the Factory Tour, which allows visitors to see the injection molding process used to make Lego bricks. Even the kids in our group thought this was cool, but the adults dawdled a little longer in the only place to see Lego bricks being made outside one of the company’s factories. Basically, the acrylonitrile butadiene styrene plastic used in Lego is heated to 450 degrees and then pressed in molds with from 25 to 150 tons of pressure. Just three bricks per million fail to meet the company’s standards. And when was the last time you were missing a piece in a Lego set?

Throughout Fun Town, model builders have installed people all built of Lego doing nutty things. Santa Claus sits on a roof wearing a bathing suit and sunglasses. A scuba diver’s head pops out of a fountain. A Lego Dalmatian takes care of business on a fire hydrant. Similar scenes play themselves out on Castle Hill--the most heavily themed area of the park. Designed to look like a medieval town, Castle Hill hosts a maze, a forest trail and the Dragon roller coaster, which snakes through a castle displaying scenes of royal life in Lego. The giant animated dragon at the end is one of the most spectacular models in the park. Throughout Castle Hill are models of wizards and soldiers and royal folk.

Between Castle Hill and Miniland is the Imagination Zone, a complex of buildings where parents and kids can build models of their own. Activities range from programming Lego robots to building cars and racing them down ramps. In our group, Reid built a heavy, squat rig with big wheels. It was so successful that after a few races no one wanted to compete against him.

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At the end of the day, Miniland offers a gentle exit and embodies the soul of the park. Of the 30 million Lego elements used throughout Legoland, 20 million of them were consumed in the construction of Miniland--which renders famous American landmarks in 1/20th scale. Henrik Lykke, the mayor of Miniland and the master builder who supervised its installation, said Miniland “shows there are no limits with Lego.”

Each building contains from 15,000 to 20,000 bricks. All are the same bricks sold in kits, although master builders can order special colors. The 134,500-brick Golden Gate Bridge, for instance, required a special shade of dark orange. Larger structures gobble up hundreds of thousands of bricks. Grand Central Terminal, for instance, took 370,000 bricks--and 2,678 hours--to build. Many of the models are interactive and are controlled by 10 industrial computers. It took a team of two model makers and two animators 18 months to build and light a miniature Hollywood Bowl, complete with lights that change color to the music.

The models themselves are amazing, but the details draw in parents and adults. In Washington, the expected models of the Capitol (380,000 bricks, 1,204 hours) and Washington Monument (15,000 bricks, 42 hours) are complemented by urban scenes. A presidential motorcade--complete with police escort--winds through the streets. A miniaturized Marine One fires up its rotors on the South Lawn of the White House. And everywhere tiny media hordes trip over themselves to capture it all on tape.

As some of the Manhattan skyline was being installed in December, I asked Lykke what his favorite building was, and he replied, “The Bertelsmann Building.” Why? “Because I built it.” A few minutes later, I asked the same question of Jette Nielsen, another master builder. Her answer: “The Golden Gate Bridge.” Why? “Because I built it.”

Months later, when I returned with the group of kids, 10-year-old Laura Colvin held up a car with 36 wheels and all sorts of wires spinning off in all directions. It looked like a psychedelic snow cat. But she was clearly proud of it.

Why?

Because she built it.

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Pintsize Playground

A closer look at Legoland California

Miniland: Lego miniatures of U.S. landmarks

See our Miniland poster. Page 32