Today, we aim into the distant corners of the cosmos for a heart-racing journey through the stars. Since 1975, Disney Parks have been whisking guests into the frigid depths of Space Mountain for close encounters with shooting stars and exploding galaxies. But Disneyland Paris changed everything. There, a one-of-a-kind adventure of discovery was crafted by one of Disney’s most loved Imagineers. And it literally saved Disney’s first European park from declaring bankruptcy.
For years, we’ve been crafting a library of Lost Legends – in-depth features that tell the behind-the-scenes tales of forgotten favorites that have fallen to the wrecking ball. From Alien Encounter to World of Motion and everything in between, keep your eye out for links to Lost Legends entries across the site or jump right into the action from our Lost Legends Library index.
Today, we journey into the vast unknown to explore an unexpected masterpiece at Disneyland Paris. There, the classic Disney attractions you know and love took on entirely new forms, becoming romantic, story-centered adventures based on the collective European imagination.
And no lost ride exemplifies that unique shift in thought more than Disneyland Paris’ Space Mountain: De la Terre à la Lune. It was one of the bravest choices Disney’s designers ever made. And then, it was gone.
What lead designers to reimagine the tried-and-true Space Age classic coaster? What inspired the idea of a cannon blasting riders to the moon? Why is this one-of-a-kind coaster destined now to become a carbon copy of a U.S. ride from a totally different land? Today we explore the unbelievable story of the ride that kept Disneyland Paris from closing. Get ready for blast-off!
From the Snow to the Stars
The story of Disneyland Paris’ one-of-a-kind Space Mountain begins decades before Disney even considered a European park, and an ocean away. And strangely, the tale begins in a place familiar to many of our Lost Legends’ origins: Tomorrowland, 1955. Walt was infamously displeased with the corporate showcase that Tomorrowland had become (by necessity) upon the park’s opening, and made it a priority to expand and redress the land.
In 1959 – just four years after the park opened – an unprecedented all-at-once growth spurt expanded Tomorrowland to include three new headlining attractions, each earning the newly-invented E-Ticket designation: Submarine Voyage, the Disneyland-ALWEG Monorail, and the Matterhorn Bobsleds.
The third is of particular interest, given that it was the first continous, modern steel roller coaster ever built. Manufactured by Arrow Dynamics of Utah, the complex ride system not only provided a smoother experience than traditional wooden roller coasters, but also came with a cutting-edge, first-of-its-kind electronic dispatch system allowing more than one train on the track at a time.
In 1964, Walt approached Imagineer and Disney Legend John Hench and tasked him with designing a new thrill ride that could serve as the focal point for an upcoming “New Tomorrowland” – a leap forward for the steel coaster concept, Walt and John developed the concept of an indoor roller coaster expanding upon the lessons learned from Matterhorn. The ride quickly gained the name Space Port.
Plans continued to move forward for this New Tomorrowland, and the indoor, outer-space themed ride would’ve been more than just the headlining E-Ticket… its graceful curves, Googie towers, and sleek white spires would set the visual style for the entire land-wide renovation.
Before any ground would be broken on Disneyland’s Space Port, though, development in the mid-1960s shifted to the new “Disney World” to be built in Florida. Then, Walt’s unexpected death in 1966 seemed to sideline any hope of Disneyland getting a Space Port coaster at all.
But upon Disney World’s opening in 1971, Magic Kingdom proved unexpectedly popular for pre-teens and young adults, spurring Imagineers to reconsider the forgotten coaster plans as an added thrill. The Tomorrowland in Florida offered the right amount of space, and technology had advanced sufficiently to imagine that this complex coaster could actually exist in a refined, conical peak just outside of the park’s railroad tracks.
Space Mountain opened first in Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, on January 15, 1975. The dual mirror-imaged roller coaster tracks inside were actually faithfully modeled off of the two tracks on Disneyland’s Matterhorn Bobsleds! So when the attraction proved wildly popular at Disney World, the opportunity to bring the concept back West was too much to pass up. But in California, the ride would be entirely redesigned (since a duplicate of the Matterhorn wouldn’t do) with a single roller coaster track.
Icons of the close of the Space Age, the two geometric, white peaks in Florida and California gave guests the chance to become astronauts on a futuristic trip into the starry reaches of the universe.
The Man Behind the Magic
So by the late 1970s, both Magic Kingdom and Disneyland were launching guests to the stars. But as for Paris’ stellar take on the concept? That story was just beginning.
Like so many beloved-and-lost Disney Parks masterpieces, the creation of this Lost Legend revolves primarily around fan-favorite Imagineer and Disney Legend Tony Baxter.
The true story of Baxter’s rise is more fantastic than any invented biography could be – working part-time as a ride operator on Disneyland’s Submarine Voyage, one of Baxter’s college design projects was spotted by Imagineers, earning him a tour of their facilities. Inspired by the visit, Baxter changed his major and was hired on right out of school as the production designer on a little ride under development for the new Walt Disney World being built in Florida: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
That’s right – Baxter went from operating Disneyland’s Submarine Voyage to designing the enhanced version that would call Magic Kingdom home.
Given that, by the 1970s, submarines were no longer the stuff of the future, Disney World’s version of the ride would need moved out of Tomorrowland. Instead, Baxter oversaw an evolution of the concept, retooling the ride into the universe of renowned 19th century author Jules Verne’s novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and Disney’s 1954 movie adaptation of it. Under Baxter’s leadership, the fantastic Floridian submarine ride became an instant fan-favorite. You can catch up on that full, in-depth story in its own standalone Lost Legends: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea – Submarine Voyage feature.
In short, Baxter proved himself right out the gate as a leading mind at Imagineering, and a figurehead for an up-and-coming second generation of designers – individuals who, unlike Walt’s first generation, had actually seen Disneyland as guests first.
Still, it was Baxter’s next project that would shape his portfolio for the rest of his career… and set the stage for Space Mountain in Paris.
The Ole’ West
Shortly after work was finished on Magic Kingdom – just as one group of Imagineers got to work creating Space Mountain for the park – another set of Imagineers returned home to Burbank, California where a roster of new ideas for Disneyland awaited.
The next major project for Baxter would be a difficult task. In the nearly two decades since Disneyland had opened, pop culture had changed dramatically. Frontierland was living proof. In Walt’s era, the Old West was a place and time defined by adventure, drama, and intrigue. Shows like The Lone Ranger and Davy Crockett captivated a generation, and it seemed that the exploits of cowboys and Indians would forever remain a staple of American fascination.
Trouble is, it didn’t.
By the 1970s, Americans’ obsession with the West had waned (and, arguably, has never returned, despite some earnest efforts). The idling past was no longer a place of romance and nostalgia in the collective consciousness. Frontierland’s solitary draw was the Mine Train Thru Nature’s Wonderland – a 1960 ride that had been around a few years too long, only adding to the feeling that Frontierland was particularly rusty.
Baxter’s goal was simple: reinvigorate the past by giving Frontierland something to appeal to modern audiences who couldn’t care less about the American frontier.
His answer was a brilliant one. In part, Frontierland would lose one Mine Train and gain another. A brand-new E-Ticket thrill ride would replace the aging Nature’s Wonderland. A runaway train would careen through canyons and fanciful hoodoos modeled on Utah’s Bryce Canyon on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.
But this new steel coaster would be only the start of a reborn Frontierland.
The Story Continues
Think of it this way – Frontierland is set in the mid-1800s. We can identify the land as representing a sleepy forested mining town built around the mysterious peaks of Thunder Mountain, with intrepid miners excavating its supposedly cursed caverns in search of riches beyond their wildest dreams!
Baxter’s plan to reboot the land for more modern audiences depended not just on Big Thunder Mountain, but on the one question that the ride would inspire: Once those prospectors braved Big Thunder Mountain and found the gold inside, what would they do with it? Would they simply settle down in the sleepy, dusty mining town? Of course not! They’d continue their “Westward Ho” journey, arriving at the Pacific coast!
Which is why, at the intersection of Frontierland and Fantasyland, a path from Big Thunder Mountain would lead to a brand-new land built along the northern edge of the Rivers of America. Discovery Bay would’ve been a living, breathing port city; a San Francisco that never was; a fantastic realm of inventors, tinkerers, and thinkers; a steampunk metropolis of Victorian homes, crystal towers, submarines, lighthouses, zephyrs, and wharfs.
This brand new land would be the continuation of Frontierland’s story… an integral element of the Rivers of America. Among its highlighted attractions could’ve been the Fireworks Factory (a dark ride through the land’s Chinatown), the Voyage Thru Time (a Jungle-Cruise style adventure into the prehistoric past), the Island at the Top of the World (a suspended dark ride), and Captain Nemo’s Adventure (an unprecedented “simulator” ride that later inspired another Baxter creation and fellow Lost Legend: Star Tours.)
And in the mid-1970s, Discovery Bay was officially announced. It would become Disneyland’s seventh land when it opened in 1976 – America’s bicentennial.
Of course, as we well know, Discovery Bay never came to pass. Perhaps the most lauded and loved never-built project ever to hit Imagineering’s cutting room floor, the full story of the land Disney almost had is chronicled in our Possibilityland: Discovery Bay feature that’s a must-read for Imagineering fans.
But what does any of this have to do with the stunning Space Mountain that opened two decades later and a continent away? Read on…
International Expansion
From the moment Walt Disney World opened, executives at Disney began to toy with the idea of international expansion. But it wasn’t until 1983 that Disney’s first embassy outside North America opened.
Tokyo Disneyland is a wonder, first and foremost because it’s neither owned nor operated by the Walt Disney Company. Instead, it’s overseen by the Tokyo-based Oriental Land Company (OLC) who pays Disney (big time) to use characters, stories, and licenses somewhat like a franchisee. Disney, in turn, contracts Imagineers to design and build new rides and attractions that OLC finances (which helps to explain why Tokyo Disney’s rides always seem grander and more built-out than their American cousins… And explains why, the same year that the Walt Disney Company opened the starved, $600 million Disaster File: Disney’s California Adventure, the Oriental Land Company opened the $4 billion Tokyo DisneySea, a Mecca for theme park fans the world over).
But the most peculiar thing about Tokyo Disneyland is just how familiar it feels to visitors from the U.S. That’s because, when it came time to design and build Japan’s park, Imagineers were tasked with something they never expected: exactly duplicating Magic Kingdom. OLC’s executives had little interest in customizing their park to Japanese culture or even putting a “Japanese spin” on Disney’s classics.
They wanted a recreation of Walt Disney World’s park with all of the Western influences in tact. A turn-of-the-century Midwest town, an Old West mining town, a European fairytale village, and a ’70s-influenced Space Mountain looming over a white, geometric Tomorrowland…
While the idea of excluding “Japan” from a Japanese park might’ve baffled Disney’s Imagineers, OLC was right on the money. Tokyo Disneyland was instantly accepted and beloved by the Japanese, with a rabid enthusiasm and enormous cultural consumption of all things “Disney” permeating pop culture. In three years, OLC paid off its $1.4 billion construction loan, and to this day, Tokyo Disneyland remains in the top three most-visited parks on Earth every year.
That meant that, at once, Disney set their sights on their next market: Europe.
La Résistance
From an initial pool of 1200 potential sites, by 1985 Disney’s executives had narrowed their search to four places – two in Spain, and two in France.
While the Spanish sites located on the Mediterranean offered tropical climates closely aligned to Orlando and Anaheim, France offered a more competitive financing deal, and just like that, Euro Disneyland would open in the rural village of Marne-la-Vallée just outside of Paris. And given that the 5,000-acre site was no more than a two-hour flight away from over 300 million people, it seemed that the choice was the right one.
But one thing Disney learned right from the start: France is not Japan.
Prominent French intellectuals and writers at once denigrated Disney’s planned resort, with the unfortunate label of a “cultural Chernobyl” becoming a common refrain. Critics called the plans a radical move of cultural imperialism – an American invasion meant to force the unhealthy consumerism of the U.S on France. One reporter for a conservative French daily paper wrote, “I wish with all my heart that the rebels would set fire to Disneyland.”
French labor unions attacked the company over an appearance code limiting makeup, facial hair, tattoos, and jewelry, seemingly imported from American parks with no consideration of French culture or the fact that such restrictions are illegal under French law unless it could be demonstrated that the restrictions were requisite to the job responsibilities and do not exceed what’s necessary. (Instead of relenting, Disney countered that the restrictions were necessary, as employees not adhering would undermine the company’s identity and thus the park’s success.)
Like the Eiffel Tower a century before, the French were determined to oppose the garish Disney resort at all costs, blockading its construction and protesting its development. It seemed that nothing Disney could do would quell the anger and hatred that the French felt toward what would surely be an American blight in the French countryside.
But Disney had a coup: Tony Baxter.
European Stories
A Disneyland in Paris was going to court controversy, period. But Tony Baxter was just the right person to minimize that effect. By now, his portfolio had expanded. Baxter topped the credits for Big Thunder Mountain, Discovery Bay, Epcot’s Lost Legend: Journey into Imagination, Disneyland’s New Fantasyland, Star Tours, and Splash Mountain. (He’d go on to create what may be his magnum opus, Disneyland’s Indiana Jones Adventure: Temple of the Forbidden Eye in 1995.)
But Disneyland Paris would be his biggest project yet. Disneyland was Americana personified – a gleaming icon of U.S. pop culture. Now, Baxter needed to inject just enough European romance to make a signature piece of Americana feel unobtrusive in a culture hostile to its very existence.
What his Imagineering team created is, in the opinion of most, the most beautiful Disney Park on Earth. Disneyland Paris is a wonder. To its credit, it’s often described as the perfect combination of Magic Kingdom’s size and grandeur while somehow retaining the intimacy and coziness of Disneyland in California. Larger than life, yet packed with incredible detail, each of its themed lands is contained within its own berm, totally immersive and entirely self-contained.
Given free reign, Baxter’s team designed incredible themed lands that are more cousins than siblings with their American counterparts. Each land is a built-out world with an overarching story connecting each of the land’s rides, attractions, shows, and even restaurants with unimaginable continuity.
Consider the park’s Frontierland. Here, it’s the dusty town of Thunder Mesa, de facto ruled by the mighty Mr. Henry Ravenswood who oversees the mining operation within Big Thunder Mountain. But when his daughter falls in love with a miner, the tragic tale that ensues leads to his once-glorious home becoming the stuff of legend and the park’s haunted house, the Modern Marvel: Phantom Manor. Infused with European storytelling, orchestral music, dark romance, and unfathomable detail, the one-of-a-kind ride is an entirely new take on a classic, and one of many such reinventions in the park.
But the most impressive was yet to come.
Discoveryland
If Disneyland Paris were dedicated to redefining Disney’s tried-and-true formula for European audiences, the biggest hurdle would be Tomorrowland.
The first issue to address was that Tomorrowland was purely American; a stark, white, geometric land born of the Space Age with swirling rockets, Missions to Mars, Captain EO, the Carousel of Progress, and the wonder of the American freeway system. As per Walt’s dedication, Tomorrowland celebrated The Atomic Age and the challenge of Outer Space… concepts wildly important to Americans during Walt’s time, but significantly less compelling to European audiences of the ‘90s.
The second issue was that the Space Race future brought to life at both Disneyland and Disney World was already losing its gleam. As the 1990s neared, the Tomorrowlands in the United States were looking increasingly dated, and the naivety of their opening years (1967 and 1971, respectively) was showing. Each was overdue for yet another respective rebirth, and it was clear to executives that their attempts to sincerely predict the future would always fall flat by way of becoming outdated or – worse – by coming true.
The future Disneyland Paris brought to life would need to be different. It would need to minimize the land’s “Americanism.” And ideally, it would be timeless, too, never needing an expensive foundational redesign.
But to create a vision of tomorrow that could never become today, designers – led by Imagineer Tim Delaney – would need to forget science and instead look to a future envisioned by the past; a fantasy future rather than a scientific one. And there it was, already sketched out in Baxter’s portfolio: Discovery Bay.
The coincidence was too great to pass up.
So Disneyland Paris wouldn’t have a Tomorrowland at all. In its place would stand Discoveryland, a retro-futuristic, semi-steampunk take on the concept borrowing from Discovery Bay’s lofty ambitions. Discoveryland would represent the future as envisioned by great European thinkers of the past: Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, and Leonardo da Vinci…
Forget the sterile, concrete, white, geometric Space Age Tomorrowland. Discoveryland would be a gold-and-copper port with organic, iron-rich red rocks jutting from the ground, bubbling lagoons, submarines, zephyrs, wind sail towers, golden accents, forested hillsides, rivets, and cogs. Discoveryland would bring to life a European take on tomorrow in vibrant gold, red, green, and bronze. And best of all, it could never become outdated, because it could never become real!
Discoveryland opened with the swirling golden Orbitron at its center, flanked by a floating dirigible docked at Videopolis, a journey through time in Le Visionarium (later transported to Magic Kingdom as the Lost Legend: Timekeeper), and the Café Hyperion; parts of a natural, warm, romantic vision of tomorrow.
Even if Disneyland Paris didn’t feature a Space Mountain upon opening, Tim Delaney and his team of Imagineers had already laid out the plan… And when the starry peak did join the park’s lineup, it would be in a groundbreaking new form. On the next page, we’ll dissect the plans Imagineers developed to bring a new kind of Space Mountain to Paris.
Voyages Extraordinaries
Between 1863 and 1905, famed French writer Jules Verne wrote 54 novels specifically belonging to his Voyages Extraordinaries series. Some of the best-known adventure stories today originate with this collection. In this groundbreaking works, Verne took his readers 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and to The Mysterious Island, Around the World in 80 Days and on a Journey to the Center of the Earth.
Verne’s novels are often called “encyclopedic novels” due to the great wealth of scientific knowledge presented comprehensibly by his characters… Part of the reason for the broad (and lasting) appeal of his works is the sense that the reader is actually learning about geology, archaeology, biology, astronomy, oceanography, and world cultures by reading.
The perfect example of this unique blend of science fiction and science fact was the 1865 novel, De la Terre à la Lune (From the Earth to the Moon). The novel tells of the Baltimore Gun Club (a post-American Civil War society of weaponry enthusiasts) and their determination to build a cannon capable of launching three people to the moon inside of a missile-like projectile. Of particular interest to scientists today, Verne attempted to do some rough calculations as to the requirements of the Columbiad Cannon and – absent any available data at the time – was surprisingly close to reality.
Verne’s novel then went on to inspire acclaimed filmmaker Georges Méliès in his direction, production, writing of, and starring in the 1902 silent film Le Voyage dans la Lune. Probably the best known of Méliès film catalogue, the movie is recognized as the first science-fiction film ever and one of the most influential works in cinema history, especially thanks to its landmark moment when the cannon-launched capsule lands in the eye of the moon. (The creation of and rediscovery of the film is also pivotal in the plot of Martin Scorsese’s 2011 Academy Award winning film Hugo.)
This much was clear: a Space Mountain determined to leave science and the Space Age behind in favor of fantasy had a ready-made source material… So a Discoveryland based on Jules Verne’s Victorian fantasy adventures had a new Space Mountain to debut.
Discovery Mountain
Imagineers already knew that Disneyland Paris would eventually become home to a coaster ride to the stars. But the concept they had planned would be one-of-a-kind.
Discovery Mountain was set to become the new standard for Disney’s Imagineering catalogue. The incredible attraction would’ve been gargantuan – twice as wide as any existing Space Mountain at about the width of a football field. That’s because, inside, it would feature a half-dozen attractions. Discovery Mountain would’ve been a sub-land inside Discoveryland.
As guests stepped into the massive pavilion, they’d find themselves within the waterlogged, craggily mountainous hideaway of Jules Verne’s famed Captain Nemo. Beneath perpetual night skies, guests would’ve found an entire realm to explore, packed with a number of incredible attractions:
- A full-sized version of Nemo’s Nautilus (docked permanently with a walk-through attraction “inside”) from 20,000 Leagues;
- An underwater restaurant housed “within” the Nautilus looking out on living fish in a coral reef;
- A steampunk train platform for the Disneyland Railroad, which would stop inside the mountain;
- A freefall drop tower themed to Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth (which we detailed in the in-depth feature on the ride that this concept eventually evolved into, Lost Legends: The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror);
- According to some, a new-age version of Epcot’s Lost Legend: Horizons;
- A unique version of Space Mountain themed to Verne’s From the Earth to the Moon.
The grand, 300-foot diameter pavilion would’ve sincerely redefined Imagineering, on a built-out scale comparable to the would-be Indiana Jones themed land (also designed by Baxter) that would’ve created a Possibilityland: Indiana Jones and the Lost Expedition inside Disneyland California’s Adventureland.
And Discovery Mountain was waiting in the wings, ready to be dropped into Paris to revive public interest when the resort eventually needed a boost.
Un échec
Disneyland Paris opened on April 12, 1992 (then by the name Euro Disneyland). A government survey suggested that 90,000 vehicles would overtake the resort’s roads, with 500,000 visitors attempting to enter the resort. But by midday, the parking lot was only half full. It’s believed that about 25,000 people were present.
Disneyland Paris was doomed. The overbuilt resort featured seven gargantuan resort hotels for its one theme park with a gross overabundance of 5,800 rooms – more than the two parks of Universal Orlando support today. Besides being overbuilt with far too many rooms and facilities, Disney and its designers had decided on an exclusively American theme, with each of the seven hotels designed to represent a region of the United States.
By May, daily attendance at the theme park was less than half of what Disney had expected, and as winter neared, hotel occupancy dropped so low that the company mothballed one of the resort’s hotels entirely. Creditors descended on the resort as bankruptcy was considered as a realistic plan for a strategic reorganization of debt.
Put simply: things were bad. Really bad. So bad that, for a time, it seemed that Disneyland Paris might simply close forever; so bad that Michael Eisner became infamously wary of any large-scale investment, quipping that he wasn’t sure any private company could undertake the expense he’d greenlit in Paris. Projects across the Parks were slashed. Paris’ dismal failure changed everything in the company, leading to the lowest period in the Parks’ history and our staggering list of Disney Parks projects that were demoted, demolished, and downsized after Disneyland Paris’ opening.
But Disney had a “Hail Mary” pass waiting in the wings. Though they’d planned to keep their secret weapon under wraps until the resort needed a revival of public interest, its debut was needed now. And unfortunately, the ambitious Discovery Mountain Imagineers had designed was now way beyond the resort’s financial capabilities. Sure, a roller coaster through the stars was a surefire way to bring guests into the Parisian park… But it could not be as grand as Discovery Mountain.
Instead, Imagineers were tasked with downsizing the peak to standard Space Mountain dimensions, featuring a roller coaster through the stars. What they were permitted to do was to tailor the experience to the unique Discoveryland.
Even if Paris’ new coaster wasn’t as groundbreaking as originally planned, it would quickly become understood as the most amazing Space Mountain on Earth…
It’s time to board our rockets and launch to the moon. Ready? Read on…
Welcome to Disneyland Paris. When this park opened in 1992, it was a beautiful, fanciful, detailed, and story-centered take on the original Disneyland in Anaheim, custom-built and meticulously-designed to appeal to European audiences.
Discoveryland might’ve been one of the park’s bravest reinventions, casting away the sterile, sleek, silver sci-fi future as envisioned by the “Tomorrowland” concept in favor of a golden seaport based on the retro-futuristic fantasy ideals of European thinkers and writers from the Renaissance to the Victorian age. Swirling da-Vincian planetary models, organic red rocks, forested hillsides, and babbling brooks made it clear that this vision of tomorrow was rooted in the past, creating a world at one with nature rather than opposed to it.
One thing this new take on Tomorrowland did not feature? Space Mountain. And it made some deal of sense… A white, gleaming, Space Age conical peak wouldn’t do here. But on June 1, 1995 – three years after the park’s opening – Space Mountain: De la Terre à la Lune opened at the center of Discoveryland.
Here, the peak is a glowing, golden mountain adorned with rivets, brass casing, and oxidized copper rails. It’s set alongside a bubbling lagoon from which iron-rich geometric rocks have burst forth as if holding up the mountain’s side. Captain Nemo’s imposing Nautilus is docked in the geothermal water.
But the mountain’s most astounding feature must be the bronze Columbiad Cannon anchored at the water’s edge, scaling the entire length of the mountain’s side. It terminates in a vibrant red trajectory sight, fixed on the sky overhead.
Step under the ride’s marquee and walk along the water’s edge, around the Cannon, and prepare for adventure.
The Baltimore Gun Club Queue
As you walk along the water’s edge and pass the imposing Nautilus, you may find yourself gazing up at the towering golden façade of this one-of-a-kind Space Mountain. Within a twenty-five foot tall bronze frame is the ride’s attraction poster (perhaps the most gorgeous in the entire catalogue of Disney Parks poster art) that serves as an in-universe, Victorian-era exposition advertisement for the wonders we’re about to witness…
Suddenly, the waterfront queue gives way to a crack in the exterior of the otherwise impenetrable peak. And herein lies your first impression that this Space Mountain will be unlike any other: you’re at once standing on an open platform that passes through the core of the mountain – La Voie Stellaire. The inner workings of the roller coaster surround you, with trains roaring through the depths of a glowing, majestic spacescape to the sounds of The Rocketeer’s orchestral soundtrack.
As you gaze out into the infinite unknown, a rocket train full of riders comes screaming toward the suspended pathway, diving beneath queuing guests at the last possible second. Unlike the other Space Mountain rides – populated mostly by spinning “stars” created with disco balls in the otherwise pitch-black darkness – this ride will be a sincere journey past stellar, glowing, enormous landmarks that surround you.
The queue continues into the Victorian Lounge of the Baltimore Gun Club, where blueprints, sketches, and schematics of the Columbiad Cannon help to explain our mission today: to board a vehicle bound for the moon, launched to the outer reaches of space.
But our journey to space begins in a most unexpected place: outside. Rather than carrying us into the depths of a claustrophobic space station like in California or Florida, our journey here begins in a new kind of loading area: a sort of open air Victorian social hall decked out with hanging banners and memorabilia from the Club. The breeze blows through as sunlight streams in.
But now, our rocket approaches: an 1800s metal brass train… It’s time to board.
Space Mountain: De la Terre à la Lune
Seated on board, one of the ride’s most innovative features is immediately activated: its synchronized on-board audio track (or SOBAT) is cutting-edge, and features a score based on John Williams’ grand, cinematic film compositions. The music will accompany us through the ride, perfectly synchronized to each bend and twist in the track. It’s an adventurous, bright, orchestral score that stands as a stark contrast to the sci-fi theme that would later be developed for Disneyland in California.
The train departs the station, and at once you find yourself in near darkness, gliding through a wide turn beneath incandescent bulbs. Then, the train dives down to the right, pulling out of the drop and aligning with a blinding sight: the length of the Columbiad Cannon.
It feels now as if the train has been hooked onto from beneath as it’s pulled dutifully up into the Cannon’s base. The Columbiad’s curved side pulls away to give onlookers a view of the loaded train. It advances higher into the cannon as pulsing lights build alongside trumpets in the score. Steam begins to spray as a great burst of fog is emitted from the Cannon’s ring. The train is hurled forward at 40 mph up the incline along the mountain’s peak, generating 1.5Gs of force!
The train is catapulted into the darkness of the mountain, immediately dropping and helixing downward between glowing blue asteroids. The train dives to the ground then races upward, turning upside down through the ride’s first of three inversions.
Leveling out from the sidewinder, the train narrowly races through the metallic rings of a space mining machines (deployed by the Blue Moon Mining Company) and then races headlong toward a massive meteorite, passing perfectly through its melting, molten center and again racing downward in ever-intensifying helices.
In the darkness, the train unexpectedly pulls upward and inverts through an elongated corkscrew, providing a moment of hang time and disorientation.
We round the corner and align with a lift hill concealed in the darkness. As the train is swiftly pulled to the top, an image of the Man in the Moon (from the Georges Méliès film) appears overhead, smiling and beckoning us closer!
As the score’s triumphant notes tell us that we’re nearing our goal, the train dives again, swerving between massive comets, slaloming left and right and diving at the last second to avoid the queue’s path.
With a final burst, the train rears up through a unique “horseshoe” inversion (a tight, overbanked, inverting turn) as pulsing blacklights signal your re-entry into the atmosphere. Sparks rain down as the train reaches the Electro de Velocitor, roaring to a halt to signal our arrival back on Earth.
Videos of the original roller coaster were difficult to capture given the state of photography at the time, so we offer three opportunities to get an inside look: a very dark point-of-view video, a rare look at the ride’s effects and queue and this spot-on digital recreation of the ride’s layout:
But then…
Space Mountain: De la Terre à la Lune was a true Imagineering masterpiece… an original adaptation of a timeless concept, perfectly positioned to be the headlining attraction for a uniquely wonder-ful Discoveryland and for all of Disneyland Paris.
And today, it’s gone.
On the last page, we’ll address what happened to put an end to this interstellar fantasy journey and why it may signal the end of an era at Imagineering.
In July 1995, Disneyland Paris celebrated Space Mountain’s one year anniversary with an impressive and unexpected announcement: Euro Disney S.C.A. had made its first ever quarterly profit: $35 million. During the 1995 fiscal year, attendance at the resort had surged from 8.8 million to 10.7 million – a staggering 21% increase – and hotel occupancy reached an all-time high of more than 68%.
Here’s the point: Space Mountain saved Disneyland Paris. Analysts and industry experts agree that without the $100 million investment in Discoveryland, the European park would’ve been sunk.
Unfortunately, the Resort still hasn’t gained absolute stability even twenty years later… Because even as the resort seemed to grow into itself and gain traction, contractual obligations and Michael Eisner’s ill-fated Disney Decade (the same terrible forced growth spurt that gave us the underbuilt Disney’s California Adventure and Hong Kong Disneyland) mandated that Disneyland Paris – finally treading water – be joined by what is objectively the most embarrassing Disney Park on Earth. We walked through the abysmal second gate Paris received in its own must-read feature, Disaster Files: Walt Disney Studios Park.
When it opened in 2002, the Studios park immediately sank the entire Resort’s finances once again while simultaneously ensuring that any investment in the Resort at all go to keeping the miniscule movie park afloat. Any investment in Disneyland Park was immediately frozen as money was funneled into the Studios (which still needs a California-Adventure-sized rebuild). As a result, Disneyland Park hasn’t gotten a genuine new ride in decades, and is only now recovering from a period where even routine maintenance and guest services were slashed to bare minimums.
Space Mountain: Mission 2 (2005 – 2016)
As Walt Disney Studios dragged the resort down, Disney turned once again to their golden egg to reinvigorate the resort.
Space Mountain was closed in January 2005 so that it could re-open for the mountain’s 10th anniversary in April. But now, the golden peak would be home to Space Mountain: Mission 2. The ride was stripped of its Jules Verne ornamentation in favor of the sci-fi styling of the American mountains.
Now “a journey beyond the moon, to the very edge of our universe,” the ride was rescored by Michael Giacchino (composer for Lost, Alias, The Incredibles, and the on-board audio for Disneyland California’s Space Mountain) with a sci-fi futuristic score. Don’t misunderstand – many fans would happily call Space Mountain: Mission 2 the best of the world’s Space Mountain rides, with astounding effects, a perfect score, and a thrill no other Disney coaster could match. The modern-built coaster remained a breathtaking experience, incorporating many of the sights from “De la Terre à a Lune,” new sounds based on the sci-fi score in California, and some new special effects (including an iconic tunnel of curved neon tubes).
You can watch a point-of-view video of the updated Space Mountain: Mission 2 here:
The problem is that, while the elegant exterior still made Paris’ Space Mountain a sight to behold, it was now a gilded shell… the ornate Victorian steampunk style concealed a roller coaster through the stars no more romantic or literary than Magic Kingdom’s; a sci-fi ride behind a fantasy façade. The cannon might as well have been replaced with a modern NASA “launch pad” and the mountain covered in white geometric panels. Mission 2 took what made Paris’ mountain (and all of Discoveryland) unique and stamped it out, bringing it in line with the standard Space Mountain ride found in Orlando, Anaheim, and Hong Kong.
But for fans of Disney storytelling, the worst was yet to come.
Sci-Fi Land
The brave decision to forego common Tomorrowland tropes in Paris’ Discoveryland is precisely what made it so unique. To recast the land as a copper port with Le Visionarium (transported to Magic Kingdom’s ensuing New Tomorrowland as The Timekeeper), Mysteries of the Nautilus, the grounded golden Orbitron, and Space Mountain: De La Terra a La Lune was groundbreaking and astounding.
And almost right away, it began to disintegrate.
Sure, there was no way the park’s future-themed land could’ve escaped without a Star Tours, as mismatched as it might’ve been from the overarching story. And from the park’s opening, it was there in a fittingly mismatched ‘80s sci-fi building at the rear of the land. But in 2004, Le Visionarium closed to make way for Buzz Lightyear Laser Blast – based on Disney-Pixar’s Toy Story 2. Then, the uniquely European Space Mountain became the generic Space Mountain: Mission 2 the very next year.
Already, the brave Discoveryland was becoming nothing more than a gilded Tomorrowland. Just like at the American parks’ Tomorrowlands, Discoveryland would now serve as a catchall for anything Pixar or Star Wars related, just wrapped in a more ornate, Victorian steampunk shell.
In 2014, though, rumors began to swirl that Paris’ next update to Space Mountain for the resort’s 25th Anniversary would restore the Jules Verne storyline to its former grandeur, once again making the park’s signature ride match its glorious exterior. Fans were certain that the reborn ride would bring with it the original orchestral on-board audio, the Georges Méliès accents, and brand new trains without the over-the-shoulder restraints that had become so uncomfortable over the years. And how wonderful would it be to see the heart of Discoveryland returned to its prime?
But a change in California quickly derailed any hopes of a reborn Discoveryland.
In 2015, Disneyland in California debuted a seasonal event they called “Season of the Force,” celebrating Star Wars by effectively overtaking the park’s Tomorrowland entirely. The highlight of the event, by far, was the “temporary” transformation (as in, it’s still in place two years later) of Space Mountain into Hyperspace Mountain. Within the peak, the projection screens used annually for Halloween’s Space Mountain: Ghost Galaxy instead became home to Star Wars projections as your trip through space became a wild race on a resistance mission.
As odd as it is to have Star Wars laying claim to Disneyland’s iconic Space Mountain, it doesn’t feel at all anachronistic. After all, Space Mountain opened literally two days – forty-eight hours! – after Star Wars debuted in theaters. Products of the same era, time, and generation, their looks and feels are somewhat complimentary, making 1977’s Star Wars a comfortable (though we still hope, temporary) resident of 1977’s Space Mountain. And Disneyland’s Hyperspace Mountain is an incredible overlay and a truly awesome ride in its own right, as you can see in this amazing on-ride video:
Quickly, the Hyperspace Mountain overlay was transplanted to Hong Kong Disneyland (its Space Mountain being an exact replica of Disneyland’s), and it was only a matter of time until the announcement fans feared was made…
Hyperspace Mountain: Rebel Mission (2017)
On January 8, 2017, Paris’ Space Mountain: Mission 2 closed.
When Space Mountain re-opens to celebrate the park’s 25th Anniversary, it’ll have its third name: Star Wars Hyperspace Mountain: Rebel Mission. Evidence suggests that this is not a temporary, seasonal overlay… it’s a permanent new identity for the mountain. (Except, as observant fans have noticed, if the poster art is accurate, the new new trains coming online for the overlay are decked out in Victorian cogs and golden rivets… which may signal that Imagineers at least intend for the mountain to get back some semblance of Discoveryland some day.)
It’s the most recent in what’s become Disney’s new calling card: hastily and thoughtlessly stuffing hot intellectual properties into the parks, even at the expense of cannibalizing classics and decimating themed lands.
The move to stuff the ‘70s sci-fi Star Wars into a beautiful 19th century Victorian Jules-Verne inspired fantasy golden mountain is the new par-for-the-course, brought to you by the same forces that turned the beautiful and mysterious 1920s lost Hollywood Tower Hotel into an ‘80s-inspired sci-fi “warehouse fortress power plant” based on “the beauty of an oil rig,” condemning California Adventure’s Lost Legend: The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror to become Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy – Mission: BREAKOUT!
What’s especially odd is that both projects – Star Wars in Paris and Marvel in California – would probably be intriguing, unique, and welcome offerings if Disney only made them “for a limited time.” But by permanently converting fan-favorites, they cast a heavy shadow of doubt on their own sanity and on Imagineering’s future.
We’d like to think that if Tony Baxter hadn’t retired from Imagineering in 2013, these shortsighted and story-killing decisions wouldn’t be being made. But we also suspect he might’ve retired specifically because he saw these maligned concepts coming down the pipeline and knew he was powerless to stop them.
The Future is in the Past
Despite fans’ desires, one thing seems abundantly clear: it’s unlikely that any semblance of Jules Verne’s fantasy worlds will return to Disneyland Paris in the near future. Not while the current regime is in charge, at least.
And that is too bad.
We’ve made the case before that Disney only hurts itself when it shelves original concepts in favor of box office tie-ins. By following Universal’s lead and aggressively inserting whatever’s hot into their parks at the expense of timeless entries, Disney and its executives are forgetting to play the long game.
That’s why fans are haunted by “what ifs.” It’s why many understand-but-lament that Disneyland will have a Star Wars land instead of Discovery Bay; that Animal Kingdom will have PANDORA – The World of Avatar instead of Beastly Kingdom; that California Adventure gets Guardians of the Galaxy – Mission: BREAKOUT! instead of Tower of Terror; that Disneyland and Epcot get Finding Nemo rather than 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea; that the U.S. parks will never see a Mystic Manor or a Journey to the Center of the Earth; and that Disneyland Paris will now host Star Wars inside of a golden, custom-built mountain rather than the astounding original ride it was designed for.
What we hope for is that one day, another Imagineer like Tony Baxter rises through the ranks and is able to convince a new generation of Disney’s executives that there’s merit in originality and risk; that brave new concepts are worth exploring; that a ride is worth building even without a box office hit behind it; and that classics should be restored and revered, not wrecked. Of course, that’s the case in many of our Lost Legends features, and we encourage you to visit our In-Depth Collections Library and set course for another closed classic.
Then we want to hear from you. What do you think? Did you know that Disneyland Paris and its Space Mountain were so unique among Magic Kingdom style parks? Have you ever had the chance to experience their one-of-a-kind ride through the stars? Should Disney respect and reinforce rides that fans crave, or does it make more sense to appeal to the masses by inserting hot intellectual properties, even overtop of classics?