At the happiest place on Earth, it’s a wonder how anyone could be anything besides elated beyond reason. That alone is enough purpose to drive “Escape from Tomorrow,” a film that has been claimed, on multiple occasions, “shouldn’t exist.”
It’s a fair declaration – “Escape from Tomorrow” was shot entirely within and around the grounds of Disneyland and Disney World without the express knowledge or permission of the Walt Disney Company. Director Randy Moore and crew carefully navigated the parks’ scenery, rides and decorations without attracting attention, shooting the actors with small camcorders in few, strictly planned takes.
The premise for its creation is already notably unusual, and the premise for its storyline matches this standard. Troubled father Jim White (Roy Abramsohn), along with his wife (Elena Schuber) and two children (Katelynn Rodriguez and Jack Dalton), tries to enjoy the last day of their vacation at Disney World while keeping to himself the news that he has been fired from his job. As the average American family wanders the parks, White begins seeing strange visions and images of the animatronic characters and people around him.
Two French girls in their teens (Annet Mahendru and Danielle Safady) who continuously appear during White’s dazed meandering fuel the mystery of his increasingly disturbing day. He begins following them, lured by their mystery, which sticks out in a strikingly sexual fashion amid the magic of a theme park universally known for its more child-friendly wonder.
Shot entirely in black and white, “Escape from Tomorrow” works as a valid modern art film, with a strange, avant-garde evocative plot that makes little sense, even as it gets going. The revelations of secrets within the theme park’s walls and corruption behind the system only lead to White’s increased intrigue, never stemming away from his carefree attitude about his trip and, more dangerously, his family.
While White goes about his missteps unaware, director Randy Moore carefully follows his steps, visibly done with a grand scheme of purpose. Film noir-reminiscent shots following the family on easily identifiable rides present a documentary-style flow, emphasized by an odd, Disney-ridden score. Slow zooms of feature pieces, such as the dolls in “It’s a Small World,” play with hauntingly edited scenes of childhood attractions so horror-esque it almost feels as though Moore made a 1950s monster movie, the disgusting creature potentially hiding from the audience at every turn.
Taking a page out of David Lynch’s book, Moore’s debut feature is a surrealistic trip unlike any other. That point is made clear the second the Epcot ball is shown in an early montage of Disney’s attractions as the camera moves around in blissfully happy guidance. Moore’s intention to make his mark on the cult film industry is fully realized from a gimmick easy enough to misfire, or backlash against him legally.
It’s his eerie results that make or break the film’s lasting value, and Moore makes very good use of what he has. By not explicitly describing what is happening on camera during most of his work, each scene finds its hook in the overlapping mystery of White’s ordeal and whether any of it is even remotely real. Moore’s approach is a frustrating one, but entirely effective.
Compared to industry professionals who have presented their opinions of Disney’s monumental stature in big budget attacks, or critics and scholars who have quietly lambasted through schematically dictated theses, Moore’s critique seems crude. He has chosen to show off a production of unextraordinary acting, insignificant effects and a confusing plotline lacking in exuberance.
Though, by relying on an idea reminiscent of entertainment’s best publicity acts, set in a stylishly portrayed environment, he makes an assessment of Disney, and to an extent, of independent filmmaking, elegant enough to be noteworthy – and that’s clearly all Moore is asking for.