“So, I’ve been having a really tough time these days. My grandpa passed away recently.”
“The circle of life.”
“And my dad and his siblings are still in a state of shock over the whole thing.”
“Poor unfortunate souls.”
“He left them a lot of inheritance and it’s emotionally confusing for them, because all they ever saw was a man living a humble life.”
“The bare necessities.”
“Yeah, and I can’t go to them to talk about anything I’m feeling about the whole thing, because they were his actual kids and they have it worse than me.”
“You’ve got a friend in me.”
“Thanks, man. I just don’t know how to deal with life continuing on around me, ya know?”
“Let it go.”
“Wha— let it go?! What kind of advice is that?”
“Do you wanna build a snowman?”
End scene.
Case closed: the problem with Disney Adults is that right there. Alright, alright, we jest; but in all seriousness, there’s still more to say on the matter. While there’s no harm in enjoying a nostalgic or well-written movie from time to time, Disney’s franchises of children’s movies have gathered near-religious devotion from a surprisingly large contingent of older fans. So-called “Disney adults” have made their fandom into a core part of their identity, turning every vacation into an opportunity to visit the parks (including solo), buying merchandise and costumes with near-cosplay levels of intricacy (and associated prices), and accumulating obscure bits of trivia that have no practicality outside this one corporate niche. While the phenomenon isn’t limited to Disney — the Harry Potter franchise, for instance, has famously elicited similar levels of obsession well above the age bracket it was written for — Disney adults seem to have become the archetype for adult fixation with children’s media.
Others who have criticized the phenomenon have been called out for the underlying sexism in their animosity, so we’d like to make it clear — the issue the writers have is not with Disney in particular, but any display of fanaticism for a single topic to the point of excessive consumerism and monomania. Vehement sports fans deserve our skepticism in the same way, because obsession with a single interest or hobby leaves a whole universe of knowledge untouched. Many are quick to denounce it, but there is a reason schools teach and offer a variety of topics from STEM to to sports and gym class to humanities, languages, art, and music, even after many students have decided they will never take a job that requires algebra or involves drawing bowls of fruit: not only are there benefits to being a well-rounded person with a range of skillsets, but it’s always good to have a backup plan. Not all college athletes will play in the major or even minor leagues, and even if they do, they might need another job option after they finish; employers are generally more likely to hire an engineer who can speak and write well over one who has better grades but is extremely antisocial. Life skills are not only those which command the highest earning potential — and even those who are wealthy enough to outsource “menial” everyday tasks are one unfortunate life event away from being helpless — like the momma’s boys who go straight from living with parents to living with a partner without ever learning to cook and do laundry only to have their partner leave or pass away; or professional athletes who suffer mental breakdowns when faced with a career-ending injury.
We believe the same to be true about interests and hobbies — while there’s nothing wrong with having a lot of passion for a particular subject, the online portrayal of Disney adults as having no curiosity or enthusiasm for other media franchises, much less other hobbies (for fuck’s sake, just take a pottery class or something) presents a worrying picture for viewers, young and old, who may let themselves get consumed by an ultimate passion and come across to others as someone with no ability to communicate with others except on their infatuation of choice.
Aside from Disney adults being rather dull to interact with, it’s worth asking what the spread of the phenomenon says about the level of literature and media appreciation in society. While Disney stories are undoubtedly well written, the vast majority are essentially formulaic examples of the hero’s journey: a protagonist sets off on an adventure, faces some sort of adversity, learns a lesson, and comes home transformed. Deviations from the formula are rare, and despite the creativity of the journey, there’s always a happy ending. Many of the movies that come to mind as even slight contradictions of that idea are actually, on second thought, Pixar movies instead of Disney movies (and while the distinction may be pedantic, it’s worth noting that we don’t see Disney adults get up in arms about Monsters, Inc. the way they do about The Little Mermaid). The same can be said of Marvel Studios, which was acquired by Disney rather than originating with them (and Marvel fatigue is a whole different topic altogether).
Then there’s the other matter of representation — many Disney movies have a troubling history of racism, nationalism, and other problematic -isms, and though they’ve endeavored to improve the problem in recent years, its difficult to ignore that it was for the sake of making more money: when racial discrimination went out of vogue, the company conveniently changed their messaging to align with the populace. The same thing is happening today with queer representation: as Tom Haynes wrote in The Tab, “Disney adults will hail [a background scene of two guys holding hands] as a landmark moment in LGBT representation, homophobic countries will cut the scene out, and people with brain cells are left scratching their heads at just how low the bar has been set”.
Disney is an interesting case study on the seemingly contradictory intersection of capitalism and “wokeness,” for lack of a better word. To call it progressivism would be incorrect, as many have called out corporate practices like greenwashing and commodity activism for their inauthenticity and blatant appeals to left-leaning consumers. But it seems like even “faux wokeness” is enough to anger many right-leaning voters and their political mouthpieces, as evidenced by Disney’s ongoing feud with Florida governor and presidential-hopeful Ron DeSantis, who hails from a historically pro-corporate political party. As the company continues to occupy the unenviable position of trying to appeal to the most people, shifting with the tide of public opinion while risking the wrath of at least one vocal majority, and never being able to escape the drone of “there is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” their actions will remain under more scrutiny than ever — all the while, Disney adults will continue to insist that critics not “yuck their yum” by pointing out any issue with devoting most of their free time, discretionary capital, and precious brainspace to “the most magical place in the world.”
For better or worse, Disney seems to be fully prepared to take advantage of this unexpected demographic of diehard fans. The company’s theme parks, which seem to act almost as religious pilgrimage sites to some Disney superfans, have been particularly well-positioned to capitalize on the pent up demand for live entertainment following the end of COVID-related travel restrictions: with fans foaming at the mouth to go back, Disney clearly saw an opportunity and raised the price of annual passes at Disney World and Disneyland (after originally deciding to stop issuing them altogether in order to allow tourists and their reliably higher rates of additional expenditure to visit the parks in place of local fans who already possess a customary pair of Mickey Mouse ears). Nevertheless, visitors have shown no hesitation in returning — the call of Disney seems strong enough to overcome the pressures of inflation. In the meantime, we hope that Disney adults endeavor to try out Legoland, Six Flags, or Universal Studios — at least, if they can’t bring themselves to pick up cross-stitch.
Welcome (or welcome back) to Season 2 of Pacific Dispatch! A whole host of interesting articles are on the horizon, but if you’re impatient, check out the ten articles in Season 1 — we promise they’re worth your time. Hope to see you back here soon!