'Escape From Tomorrow' creeps inside the Mouse House
FILM Escape From Tomorrow acquired cachet at Sundance this year as a movie you ought to see because it probably wouldn't surface again — not because it was that bad, but because any regular release seemed sure to be legally blocked. The reason was its setting, which composites two of the most photographed (and "happiest") places on Earth. They're also among the most heavily guarded from any commercial usage not of their own choosing.
That would be Disney World and Disneyland, where Escape was surreptitiously shot — ingeniously so, since you would hardly expect any movie filmed on the sly like this to be so highly polished, or for its actors to get so little apparent attention from the unwitting background players around them. (Let alone from security personnel, since as anyone who's ever tried to do anything "against the rules" at a Disney park can tell you, those folks are as omnipresently watchful as Big Brother.)
Disney does not have a history of taking perceived affronts to its brand lightly. One movie that never did never make it past its festival bow was 2002's The Sweatbox, an excellent behind-the-scenes look at the animated feature that eventually emerged as 2000's The Emperor's New Groove. That was a fun movie, but completely different from the far more ambitious narrative its first round of creators envisioned, only to have years of work curtly dismissed with a "start over from scratch" memo from top executives mid process. Though green-lit by the studio itself, its directors given full warts-and-all access, The Sweatbox turned out so heartbreakingly revealing (and so unflattering toward the aforementioned execs) that the studio shelved the finished product after its Toronto International Film Festival premiere. It hasn't been seen since ... at least not legally.
So there seemed little hope for Escape, which is anything but "authorized." You don't have to be a Disney lawyer to imagine how it could be seen as copyright infringement, a slander of sorts, or outright theft. That nobody has pulled the fire alarm, however, suggests Disney realized this movie isn't going to do it any real harm. And perhaps more importantly, that a lawsuit would provide a publicity gold mine for the naughty filmmakers while hardly keeping viewers away in the long run. (Todd Haynes' infamous, Barbie-enacted 1988 biopic Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story has been "banned" since 1990, thanks to unamused sibling Richard Carpenter. Surely by now he's aware his actions helped make it perhaps the most widely seen "unseeable" movie in history; as of this writing, there are 10 copies on YouTube alone.)
Anyway, Escape From Tomorrow is here, in improved form even. Nearly 15 minutes cut since Sundance have made all the difference between a clever, albeit slightly overstuffed, stunt and something uncategorizable yet fully realized. While its illicit setting remains near-indispensable (another big family theme park probably would have worked, too), what writer-director Randy Moore has pulled off goes beyond great gimmickry. His movie's commingled satire, nightmare Americana, cartooniness, pathos, and surrealism recalls a few cult-fabled others — Eraserhead (1977), Parents (1989), even Superstar — mostly alike only in going so far out on their very own twisted limb.