Review of ‘Rope Drop’: “Disneyland cabaret homage is no E-ticket attraction, but it has a fast pass”

It’s become fashionable to hate on Disney adults. Some argue that their entertainment is aimed at kids and kids alone, and you should move on once they hit puberty. Others claim that grown-ups’ admiration for The Big Cheese and everything it manufactures is almost sectarian and requires psychological examination. And others (probably, the majority) are just bitter Debbie Downers struggling with the fact that people can and want to have fun no matter how old they are.

There are many types of stock gays, and I happen to be the Disney kind. And so, a show celebrating the magic and joy of The Happiest Place on Earth (may the purist shut up and let the term apply beyond Anaheim) is music to my Mickey ears — which, for the record, I definitely don’t have. That’s all Rope Drop is about. And all it does. And it does it well, but to the bare minimum.

A love letter to the destination where so many fondest memories have been made, the show pays tribute to its rides by taking viewers on a merry jingle cruise. But unlike the attractions it so tenderly honours, the storytelling lacks elaboration. And beyond the laughter, which the main duo rarely provides, it fails to build a compelling emotional roller coaster despite its many attempts.

It is an enjoyable piece, mainly because of its repertoire, which lead singer Ayesha Patel does justice to through her extraordinary vocals and electrifying showmanship. Neither of those qualities is shared by her co-star, Jordan Li-Smith, to the same degree, but he is still a competent MD, and his piano skills are satisfactory. Furthermore, their chemistry is undeniable.

But that’s as good as it gets. For the most part, the narrative is underdeveloped, ticking dramaturgical checkpoints instead of delving into them. As such, the two performers quarrel about which park this imaginary trip is set in- Paris or Orlando -, and they keep telling themselves that they are NOT Disney adults. The goal is to bring pathos through the former and a transformational arc of self-acceptance with the latter. But none of those really work. Ultimately, they are too sketchy to be engaging—let alone resonant.

On the other hand, the jokes rarely land, either because they’re too predictable or simply because they’re not very funny. Whether the punchline is a Disney-related pun, self-deprecating humour, or just blatant satire at the Mouse’s money-swallowing empire, most of the comedy feels flat and inorganic, except for Henry Calvert’s hysterical guest appearance. Its groan-worthy wordplay is obviously deliberate, but rather than cute, it often comes out sloppy.

Despite these flaws, there’s something endearing about Rope Drop. The script may have more holes than the Matterhorn, but its uplifting celebration of Imagineering and personal authenticity makes its jamboree bearable. It needs improvement and more soulfulness, but its heart is in the right place. And you’d be surprised how many acquaintances you’ll bump into across the audience wearing their favourite Disney merch. It’s a small world, after all.

By Guillermo Nazara