Recently, The New York Times reported how the House of Mouse (along with other companies in the business of entertaining people) is now going out of its way to target the very wealthy at the expense of the middle class. The days of the Jones family of Joliet being able to afford a few days at Disneyland are long gone.
As Len Teta, whose unofficial guidebooks and website, Touring Plans, help people prepare for a trip to Disneyland noted to the Times, a trip to the happiest place on earth is now beyond most families. “Disney positions itself as the all-American vacation. The irony is that most Americans can’t afford it,” he said.
Over the past decade, ticket prices alone have climbed by up to 115 per cent (compared with American inflation over that same period of 37 per cent), while for everything else, from the cost of a Mickey ice cream to parking, prices across the board have been pushed up, largely at a rate much faster than inflation.
Four days at the four Disney World parks for two adults and two kids this week would set you back at least $US1400 ($2135), while accommodation (you can drop $US1700 ($2570) a night at the Grand Floridian Resort in Florida) is also likely to hurt the hip pocket. And that’s before you’ve even stepped through the gates and heard It’s a Small World.
Don’t want to spend an hour in a queue lining up for Rise of the Resistance or the Indiana Jones Adventure rides? You can splurge on a system that moves you to the front of the line – but it’s going to cost you as much as $US400 ($605) a person per day.
A combination of mindset change within Disney, competitors finding ways to charge customers for anything, and the financial hole caused by the pandemic all mean that a trip to the world’s most famous amusement park is now affordable only for the top 5-10 per cent of Americans.
Loading
From a business and economic standpoint, this makes perfect sense. Companies like Disney have a unique product and are using prices to ration that demand. Economically, too, it’s all above board. Disney is doing what any normal company would and should do. But socially and politically, it’s an illustration of the troubles evident across America. Because when you sell yourself as the happiest place on earth to everyday families and then increase prices to the point where only people who enjoy the top 10 per cent of US household income can afford that happiness, Buzz Lightyear, we have a problem.
American voters are angry. It’s being reflected everywhere, from the way Republicans and Democrats talk to each other to how American fans berate European Ryder Cup players.
But much of the anger is among middle-class voters and those working-class voters that aspire to the world that has been represented by Disneyland for so long. Years of sub-par wage growth, job insecurity and then the inflation breakout under Joe Biden is now manifesting itself in anger, hostility and disenchantment.
Meanwhile, the size of the top end of the American economy (we’re talking 13 million households in that top 10 per cent by income) means Disney and others can operate a very profitable business model targeted at the wealthy. Last year, for example, its theme park division recorded an all-time high $US34.2 billion in revenue and operating income of $US9.3 billion.
Now we have a situation where left-wing types sneer at those people who used to be able to afford a trip to Disneyland. Right-wing cultural warriors fear more about whether Star Wars has gone woke under Disney’s watch. Both ignore what is playing out across the rest of the country. Purposefully, a place as American as apple pie is being made too expensive for ordinary Americans and strategically leaving the working-class behind.
Walt Disney would struggle to recognise what his version of happiness has become.
Shane Wright is a senior economics correspondent for The Age and Sydney Morning Herald.
Get a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up for our Opinion newsletter.
