Read Online Chris Mitchell by Cast Member Confidential: A Disneyfied Memoir - Free Book Online
Tags: United States, General, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Travel, Journalists, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Biography, Photographers, South, South Atlantic, Walt Disney World (Fla.) - Employees, Walt Disney World (Fla.), Disneyland (Calif.), Amusement & Theme Parks
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fun, fun!” The two air kissed and Jessie bolted without saying good-bye.
“That was weird,” I said to Brady after she left.
“What was?”
“I’ve never felt embarrassed to be a photographer before.”
He waved it off. “Don’t mind Jessie. She’s a star fucker, but she’s cool once you get to know her.”
“You and Jessie…”
“What?” he said. “Are you crazy? She’s a Piglet.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m a Pooh.” He registered my blank look with the serenity of a Buddha. “Same story: relationships never last. I make it a strict rule never to date anybody who’s been approved in my characters…. Damn, I forgot how green you are. Come on, I’ll give you the nickel tour.”
Brady walked me down the main corridor to the Hub where the walls were lined with rack after wheeled rack of character costumes. Sweaty Cast Members in gray shorts and white T-shirts flung colorful outfits at wardrobe assistants who wheeled the racks through a doorway into a room that Brady referred to as the Zoo.
Just inside the door, three rows of ceiling-high racks were filled with character heads. A sneering Hook leered sideways at Geppetto who gazed serenely at Brady and me. Tigger and the Queen of Hearts rubbed noses on one rack while Goofy and Dale kissed on another. Roger Rabbit, Baloo, Tweedledum, Formal Minnie, Safari Minnie, and Minnie Goes Golfing. There were Six Mickeys, three Donalds, and all seven dwarfs. They sat on wooden racks like decapitated cartoons warning other animated creatures not to enter this kingdom.
We stood in the doorway of the Zoo while Brady pointed to the different character costumes. “Basically,” he explained, “there are two different types of characters: fur and face. Fur includes any character whose costume covers the performer from head to toe. Obviously, fuzzy characters like Winnie the Pooh, Terk, Chip and Dale are considered fur, but so is Buzz Lightyear and Geppetto because they have masks that cover their heads. Face characters include the princess roles and some of the more human characters. Tarzan, Maleficent, and the Mad Hatter are face roles, although performers spend so much time getting into makeup, the up-close result is more Kabuki than reality.”
“Why did Jessie call me ‘prince height’?”
Brady nodded. “All character roles are organized by height. Mickey stands between four feet ten and five feet. The Queen of Hearts is six feet to six feet three. For that reason, most Mickeys are girls, whereas the Queen is almost always a guy. Disney is very strict about these height restrictions. Do you know why?”
“Actually, I do,” I said, proud to show that I wasn’t a total rube. “Guest Service Guideline 6: preserving the Magical Experience.”
“That’s right,” Brady said. “A character set lasts thirty minutes with a thirty-minute break between sets, but during the summer, when the heat is unbearable, these sets get shortened to twenty minutes with forty-minute breaks. During the course of the hour that guests are waiting in line, they might see three to four different Plutos, so Disney made an easy-to-follow rule: to be ‘approved in’ Pluto, a performer has to be between five feet six and five feet eight.”
A grinning Captain Hook head wielded by a flustered wardrobe assistant pushed its way through the door, and Brady nudged me back into the hall. “Some fur characters have further physical requirements. Woody’s girlfriend, Jessie from Toy Story, for instance, has to be extremely skinny—and flat-chested—to fit into her shirt. The Tinker Bell who starts the Fantasy in the Sky fireworks show has to weigh exactly 115 pounds to make it down the zip line at a safe speed. It’s pretty standard for Cast Members to classify people by their character range, so Jessie, who’s five feet seven and reasonably slender, is said to be “Pluto height.” You’re about six feet tall, so that means you’ll never be Donald or Pooh, but you’re in the
“That was weird,” I said to Brady after she left.
“What was?”
“I’ve never felt embarrassed to be a photographer before.”
He waved it off. “Don’t mind Jessie. She’s a star fucker, but she’s cool once you get to know her.”
“You and Jessie…”
“What?” he said. “Are you crazy? She’s a Piglet.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m a Pooh.” He registered my blank look with the serenity of a Buddha. “Same story: relationships never last. I make it a strict rule never to date anybody who’s been approved in my characters…. Damn, I forgot how green you are. Come on, I’ll give you the nickel tour.”
Brady walked me down the main corridor to the Hub where the walls were lined with rack after wheeled rack of character costumes. Sweaty Cast Members in gray shorts and white T-shirts flung colorful outfits at wardrobe assistants who wheeled the racks through a doorway into a room that Brady referred to as the Zoo.
Just inside the door, three rows of ceiling-high racks were filled with character heads. A sneering Hook leered sideways at Geppetto who gazed serenely at Brady and me. Tigger and the Queen of Hearts rubbed noses on one rack while Goofy and Dale kissed on another. Roger Rabbit, Baloo, Tweedledum, Formal Minnie, Safari Minnie, and Minnie Goes Golfing. There were Six Mickeys, three Donalds, and all seven dwarfs. They sat on wooden racks like decapitated cartoons warning other animated creatures not to enter this kingdom.
We stood in the doorway of the Zoo while Brady pointed to the different character costumes. “Basically,” he explained, “there are two different types of characters: fur and face. Fur includes any character whose costume covers the performer from head to toe. Obviously, fuzzy characters like Winnie the Pooh, Terk, Chip and Dale are considered fur, but so is Buzz Lightyear and Geppetto because they have masks that cover their heads. Face characters include the princess roles and some of the more human characters. Tarzan, Maleficent, and the Mad Hatter are face roles, although performers spend so much time getting into makeup, the up-close result is more Kabuki than reality.”
“Why did Jessie call me ‘prince height’?”
Brady nodded. “All character roles are organized by height. Mickey stands between four feet ten and five feet. The Queen of Hearts is six feet to six feet three. For that reason, most Mickeys are girls, whereas the Queen is almost always a guy. Disney is very strict about these height restrictions. Do you know why?”
“Actually, I do,” I said, proud to show that I wasn’t a total rube. “Guest Service Guideline 6: preserving the Magical Experience.”
“That’s right,” Brady said. “A character set lasts thirty minutes with a thirty-minute break between sets, but during the summer, when the heat is unbearable, these sets get shortened to twenty minutes with forty-minute breaks. During the course of the hour that guests are waiting in line, they might see three to four different Plutos, so Disney made an easy-to-follow rule: to be ‘approved in’ Pluto, a performer has to be between five feet six and five feet eight.”
A grinning Captain Hook head wielded by a flustered wardrobe assistant pushed its way through the door, and Brady nudged me back into the hall. “Some fur characters have further physical requirements. Woody’s girlfriend, Jessie from Toy Story, for instance, has to be extremely skinny—and flat-chested—to fit into her shirt. The Tinker Bell who starts the Fantasy in the Sky fireworks show has to weigh exactly 115 pounds to make it down the zip line at a safe speed. It’s pretty standard for Cast Members to classify people by their character range, so Jessie, who’s five feet seven and reasonably slender, is said to be “Pluto height.” You’re about six feet tall, so that means you’ll never be Donald or Pooh, but you’re in the
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