The Disneyfication of Cities: Historic Centers as Amusement Parks for Tourists
Living in the heart of cities like Barcelona, Málaga, Valencia, or Madrid is thrilling. However, there’s an ongoing transformation turning them into Disneyland-like theme parks, complete with clichés, stereotypes, themed shops, and various elements reminiscent of the spaces created by the beloved Walt.
This article was originally published on Retina Tendencias magazine from El País.
By FRANCESCO MARIA FURNO
If you’re unfamiliar with the term ‘Disneyfication,’ it’s been a part of social and urbanism debates for years now, aimed at understanding the changes affecting cities. Disneyfication describes the social and cultural influence of the American corporation. Two early examples globally were Las Vegas, known for gambling, and Venice, which has undergone a transformation that pushed out its citizens and converted the urban fabric into a conglomerate of hotels, rental apartments, souvenir shops, themed stores, restaurants, and bars catering to tourists. Sound familiar? This phenomenon is accelerating post-pandemic in major cities worldwide, where large investment groups are buying up buildings and spaces en masse to cannibalize city centers, turning them into amusement parks.
Cities like Paris, London, Milan, and Lisbon are already in an advanced stage where soaring rents help drive out local residents, leaving housing accessible only to the affluent. In fact, this trend began in the latter half of the 20th century and has now reached its peak. Those of us living in cities have been part of this flow, which is now evolving to extremes previously only seen in places like New York, where the average rent for an apartment is around $3,500.
Disney wields the dangerous power to crystallize an idea into The Idea, a singular vision, a narrative without alternatives, a feel-good stereotype.
Dario Bonifacio eloquently discusses this in “La disneyficazione. Dimensioni e registri di un linguaggio universale” a book published last year on the effects of Disney’s pop culture and its impact on the essence of cities. In Italy, for instance, clothes are being hung outside windows and between buildings as decor, a practice fueled by the collective imagination and films like Disney’s recent “Luca.” This attraction to cliché and manipulation of aesthetics fosters a collective idea that isn’t always true. The phenomenon has now reached unparalleled levels, eroding the authentic essence of urban spaces. An extreme example is Venice, with turnstiles for entry similar to Disneyland Paris or festivals, a trend previously signaled by Barcelona with its souvenir shops selling Mexican hats to please American tourists.
Disney wields the dangerous power to crystallize an idea into The Idea, a singular vision, a narrative without alternatives, a feel-good stereotype. In Paris, it amplifies the city of love; in New York, everything seems film-related; in Cancun, a gringo-centric vision of Mexico prevails. We are witnessing the Americanization of places, where everything must embody a perfect idealization. Even traditionally anarchic cities like Naples are succumbing, reintroducing characters like the jettatore, a figure from 20th-century Neapolitan magical realism, who disappeared but now roams the streets cursing for tips. It’s a grotesque similarity to theme park actors posing with visitors to enrich a perfect image portfolio.
We’ve moved from theme parks to thematic cities. Could thematic states be next?
In Rome, gladiators appear before the Colosseum; in Barcelona, a new vermouth bar on Las Ramblas mimics a closed historic one, complete with artificially aged signs. Contemporary barbershops revert to the classic slowly spinning white, red, and blue barber poles. Tuk tuks flood Lisbon, jostling for space, sometimes at the expense of pedestrians. O Elevador da Gloria competes with tuk tuks to transport tourists, demonstrating a battle for authenticity. City centers are now filled with amazing pizzas, artisanal ice creams shaped like roses, and boulangeries claiming to make the world’s best croissants. It’s a spectacle of special effects and flashy services, blending tradition with sophistication unmatched even by El Bulli. The first victims are the historic centers, adapted into historical recreations to evoke emotions tied to a distorted idea of their past.
We’ve moved from theme parks to thematic cities. Could thematic states be next?
Meanwhile, traditional bars and hangouts fade, giving way to this glamorous, kitsch reconstruction in perfect Disneyland style, because everything must be Instagrammable, TikTok-worthy to the nth degree. If it’s not in your posts, it doesn’t exist. The audacity! Just think about it! Not even Pinocchio and Asparagus in the Land of Toys witnessed such brazenness, such commercial desire saturation that winks at you as you stroll down the avenues. A garment for just 2.99 euros? A ride on the Ferris wheel? The Ferris wheel, the most cliché emblem of the city of attractions. And at night, you sleep in an Airbnb or hotel room, reminiscing about feeling part of a city you don’t truly know.
In Spain, small towns like Júzcar have succumbed to the allure of multinational corporations. For the release of Sony Pictures’ Smurfs movie, Júzcar transformed overnight into the Blue Village, with all houses painted Smurf-blue
Don’t think living in a village protects you from this identity cannibalization. In Spain, small towns like Júzcar have succumbed to the allure of multinational corporations. For the release of Sony Pictures’ Smurfs movie, Júzcar transformed overnight into the Blue Village, with all houses painted Smurf-blue and large statues of the 1980s characters scattered throughout its streets. Yes, the economy improved, but the cartoon identity devoured the village’s own, turning it into a spectacle.
Behind the cardboard façades lies a tremendous danger. Leisure is no longer free. You travel, stay, consume. Don’t dare linger in a square or garden without spending. The need to spend money overshadows everything else. Want a photo hanging from a balcony? That’s the latest if you visit an ancient beautiful house, because it’s the fair’s attraction.
It’s all part of a plan comprising various elements like private tours, tuk-tuks, neo-taverns, gastro-bars, and endless queues like those for a roller coaster. It’s the creation of the stereotypical city, a singular idea that excludes all nuance.
Disneyfication is the purest representation of ultra-capitalism, aesthetically and commercially influencing urban planning to generate degenerative processes that alter the essence of a city beyond the influence of other forces. It’s a massification that destroys urban richness and variety, standardizing it into a consumable product, detached from reality.
After the era of dormitory cities, we are now experiencing the era of amusement park cities.
Italo Calvino was a visionary in this regard. In his book “Invisible Cities” he imagined surreal, almost impossible places structured around a concept. Like Sofronia, the fourth city of the subtle cities group, composed of two halves: one of circuses, trapezes, and roller coasters, and the other of marbles, concrete, factories, and palaces. One half remains stationary while the other is dismantled and transported next to another half city. Oddly, the stationary half is that of the attractions, while the itinerant one comprises marbles and palaces.
Like in Calvino’s book, we are dismantling cities of buildings, banks, gardens, businesses, and schools, leaving in their place cities of roller coasters, tents, and acrobats.
Upon reflection, this seems like a contemporary form of colonization, awaiting the thawing of old Walt from his cryotomb to return as the supreme emperor of circus cities. Perhaps we are witnessing the first step in an evolution of society that will lead us to thematic nations governed by Homo actoriensis. Not even in the worst predictions of Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World.”
Or maybe it’s just a nightmare, and tomorrow, upon waking up, each city will be exactly as we experienced it before dear old Walt changed them forever. After all, even Cinderella’s carriage reverts to a pumpkin eventually.
Translated to English with the help of Chat GPT 4.
