Non Omnis Moriar
The old Ravenswood Manor reeks of decay, surrounded in the overgrown, gray, wilted gardens. Even its commanding views of the bustling, bright Thunder Mesa and the gorgeous red rocks of Big Thunder Mountain aren’t enough to revive the long-lost splendor of this forgotten villa. But as we draw nearer and nearer, the true sadness of this Phantom Manor becomes clearer.
Whereas the Haunted Mansion merely teases the presence of the supernatural up until Madame Leota, the otherworldly echoes of Phantom Manor fall across its terraced grounds like a dense fog. Voices in the wind… The mournful singing of someone carried through the breeze… The haunting plucks of an unseen music box, seemingly tinkling with a mix of wedding march and funeral dirge…
A derelict gazebo (still set for tea) signals the unfortunate and unexpected abandonment of the house decades ago… or recent activity at an otherwise empty estate. From the corner of your eye, you may feel certain you saw a silhouette bearing a candle brush past on the upper floors, and the nearby oxidized plaque hints why: Non Omnis Moriar.
“Not all of me shall die.”
As guests cross the rickety wooden porch and step into a dark paneled foyer, a distant hollow wind carries the sound of chimes, and ethereal orchestral music seems to fade in and out. In the darkness, the inhuman voice of a disembodied Phantom begins… (For our sake, we’ll include Vincent Price’s original English dialogue here.) “Where hinges creak in doorless chambers; where strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls; where candlelights flicker though the air is deathly still… this is Phantom Manor.” The distant vocalizations of a woman vibrate through the halls.
“Welcome, curious friends. You may not believe it… but beauty once lived in this house. And beauty lives here still. Show yourself…” Melanie’s face appears in a mirror. “Lovely, isn’t she? Come… I have more beauty to show you.”
As a door slides away, guests continue into an octagonal chamber encircled by portraits of Melanie’s sweet youth… stepping through a stream, picnicking with her fiance, and picking roses. “Our tour begins here in this gallery, where you gaze upon the sweet innocence of youth… Ah, but things are not always as they seem. Can it be that this room is actually stretching?”
And indeed, the portraits along the walls appear to elongate as the ceiling grows ever further away. Now, we see that the webbed hand of a creature is reaching from the water; the lovers’ picnic is being invaded by ants, snakes, and spiders; and the roses are destined for a fresh grave…
“And notice this: this chamber has no windows and no doors, which offers you this chilling change: to find a way out. Of course, there’s always my way…” As thunder vibrates the chamber, the ceiling above becomes transparent.
A body swings overhead, suspended from a noose with the dark, shadowy Phantom himself holding the other end. His mad, maniacal laughter reverberates through the room as the lights flicker out as the bride’s vocalizations crescendo.
A secret door slides away, revealing a new chamber: a hallway lined with portraits that shift and change as the lightning flashes through hall windows. “As you travel past these priceless works of art, perhaps you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Of course, it’s only a trick of the light. The real beauty of this house awaits us farther on. There’s a party in her honor, and she’ll just die if we’re late.” At the end of the hall, a portrait of Melanie in her bridal gown.
Around the corner, the boarding area comes into view. Like the Haunted Mansion, a continuous, endless stream of empty black carriages appears (even if, unfortunately, these aren’t Disney’s Omnimovers, but a ride system developed by manufacturer Vekoma with far less precision and artistry). Rather than the endless, supernatural “limbo” of the Haunted Mansion, though, we’re at the base of a grand marble staircase flanked by enormous picture windows, a storm raging outside. “And now, curious souls, a carriage approaches to take you to the party and beyond. I leave you now, but I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
Unlike the Haunted Mansion, our disembodied voice won’t follow us into the home’s inner chambers. His absence serves to let the story unfold itself while also making the ride less reliant on language. And so, stepping aboard, we’re whisked into the darkness of the manor to relive the endless tormet of Melanie Ravenswood.
Phantom Manor
Now firmly seated in our carriage, the deep, echoing, haunting score of the home is in full force. The storm outside of the grand staircase gives way to darkness, then to a chamber lit by the distant flicker of a candle. Drawing nearer, we see that the candelabra is being held by Melanie herself – in the flesh? – just feet away. Even though a veil obscures her face, we can see that she’s rosy cheeked and bright eyed, even in the darkness and decay of the manor. Her elaborate vocalizing matches the ebb and flow of the yearning score as she gestures ahead with a bouquet of fresh red roses, inviting us into her story.
Around the corner, a familiar sight comes into view: an endless hallway, stretching hundreds of feet before becoming obscured by hazy darkness. A candelabra appears to float there, hovering and gliding back and forth in the mist… but then, Melanie appears, her hand gripped around its bronze base as if she’s searching through the darkness, looking for something… After a few seconds, she disappears once more, leaving the candle floating alone in the haze.
The carriage turns to face the Conservatory, where – beneath a glowing Victorian frosted glass window – a piano appears to play by itself… except for the familiar shadow of the Phantom cast before us in the moonlight.
The carriages proceed backwards through a hallway of doors (featuring the familiar eyed wallpaper made famous by the Haunted Mansion) with pounding, pleading, and knocking heard behind each. From there, we’re whisked into a most foreboding sight… a seance. Indeed, the Omnimovers arrange into a circle, gracefully dancing around the center parlor table where the disembodied head of Madame Leota floats. But here, her message is apt.
“Warlocks and Witches, answer this call! Your presence is wanted at this ghostly ball…
Esprits et fantômes, sur vos fiers destriers, escortez dans la nuit la belle fiancée!
Join now the spirits in nuptial doom! …A ravishing bride… a vanishing groom…”
The music crescendoes as the carriages pull away from the seance and turn into the Parisian version of one of the most spectacular dark ride sights in the Disney portfolio: the familiar Ballroom. We’re at the second story, peering over a wrought-iron balcony at the elaborate wooden ballroom below. Using one of the simplest and yet most effective special effects in dark ride history, ghostly, transparent apparations appear seated around a dusty table (complete with a moldy, decaying wedding cake); ghosts arrive through the wall carrying boxed gifts; the wedding party whirls on the dance floor to the increasingly disharmonious tunes of the pipe organ there.
What sets this ballroom apart is Melanie, positioned on a distant set of steps. She looks across the room, confused… It’s hard to say whether she’s looking for the love who’s seemingly left her at the altar or if she’s simply speechless to relive this day again and again for all eternity. As her mournful cries join the escalating musical score, the sinister, mad laughter of the Phantom rings throughout the hall. He’s here – in corporeal form at last – standing in the shattered window, his eyes glues on her as he relishes her torment.
Turning the corner away from the ballroom, our familiarity with the Haunted Mansion at last diverges completely. Rather than a dusty attic, cluttered treasures, and a black widow bride, we find ourselves in Melanie’s boudoir as the sound of a tinkling music box syncs up to the ride’s score.
A dying fire crackles its last beneath a glistening portrait of the bride. Like the fire, Melanie is spent… She’s seated at a vanity, hunched over a weeping discordantly to the music… the mirror shows only a skull: the Bride’s assurance that she’ll be alone forever.
As the carriage sweeps past, we see that Melanie is wrinkled and worn, still waiting for her lost love. She dabs at her aged face with a tissue, destroyed.
The carriages exit the bedroom through opened double doors onto a wooded terrace, and just outside of Melanie’s window is the skull-faced Phantom. He throws his head back with horrific laughter, his dark eye sockets scanning us as we pass. In his hand, he’s gripping a shovel… and as we glide past him and an undead dog with its muscles exposed, we realize why… he’s been digging a fresh grave.
The carriages rotate and tilt back as we begin our descent into the still-wet earth, sinking away through the packed soil and tree roots. Forget a graveyard of “happy haunts…” We’re sinking into the earth of Boot Hill itself, past dislodged wooden coffins with bony, decaying hands reaching out. All around us, rotting corpses begin to arise from their resting places, disturbed by our presence. Shambling, hissing zombies…
Deep in the earth, the carriages parade past four marble busts as they sing “Grim, Grinning Ghosts” – a rare moment of levity in this operatic attraction. The glowing subterranean caverns at last give way to a light at the end of the tunnel… but it’s not heaven.
Having descended now into the bowels of hell, the earth gives way something new… All those many years ago when Mr. Ravenswood’s thirst for wealth woke the Thunder Bird, the resulting earthquake was his undoing… and the end of an entire part of Thunder Mesa, fractured off from the rest of the world. And we’ve arrived.
What follows is a trip through the so-called “Phantom Canyon” – a Western town of dark ride gags, funny vignettes, and decay. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that this afterlife is the only truly colorful moment of the ride… the dead, it seems, are better off. At the town’s border, an emaciated figure offers train tickets to the Underworld… Then, we glide past the town’s Mayor, who tips his hat – and his head, still attached. (This Mayor, funny enough, speaks dialogue from the original Haunted Mansion’s Ghost Host, Paul Frees, and was crafted from the same mould that made Dreamfinder on another Tony Baxter ride, Epcot’s Lost Legend: Journey into Imagination).
Onward through town, the glowing, jagged cracks of the earthquake eminate a steaming blue, uplifting the town’s tectonic foundation. A sickly, yellow-hued, glowing, underworld version of Big Thunder Mountain shines in the distance – the cursed root of the town’s demise forever reigning beyond. We glide right through the middle of a shootout between decaying robbers and a coward cop, then gaze into a saloon with bartenders, showgirls, and a honky-tonk piano.
(It’s often supposed, by the way, that the Phantom Canyon sequence is an extended allusion from Tony Baxter to his one-time mentor, Marc Davis. The same man who’d created the playful, singing spooks of Haunted Mansion’s character-filled second half had also created extensive plans for a Magic Kingdom exclusive, Pirates-style E-Ticket through the West. The highlight would’ve been a trip through the town of Dry Gulch, as chronicled in our in-depth entry on the would-be ride, Possibilityland: Western River Expedition.
When Baxter upstaged his own mentor’s plans by proposing the cheaper and more thrilling Big Thunder Mountain, Davis reportedly held the grudge against Baxter… The Phantom Canyon sequence may have been Baxter’s way of finally giving his one-time mentor the Western River Expedition he never got. Davis, for his part, said very little of Phantom Manor except commenting on its haggard, dilapidated exterior: “Walt would never approve of it.”)
As the dismal, gray, ashen sky appears at the end of town ahead, a familiar sinister laughter reappears… Ahead, the Phantom has lost any humanity he might’ve had left… he’s a rotting, revolting, decaying corpse, his unhingled cackling eerie enough to cause goosebumps. Why? Having literally been consumed by his hellish, nightmarish underworld, we’ve entered the same cycle Melanie’s known for decades: trapped; forced to relive the heartbreak and suffering of this town forever.
On a hill overhead, the silhouette of Ravenswood Manor appears again, light flooding from its windows. We’re being pulled back into the house… A swirling, rotating, noxious green light makes it seem that we’re twisting and revolving, hypnotizing us and pulling us back…
But there, in the center of the light, is Melanie… Now a corpse with silver hair, rotting flowers, and a tattered dress hanging from her decomposing bones, she nonetheless sings out as she points us away, breaking the beam of light and allowing our carriages to pull out of the descent into madness.
Her life-saving detour sends us into the Ravenswood’s old wine cellar where the carriages glide past mirrors, showing that – despite her sacrifice – the Phantom is always watching. From behind, he grabs and shakes the carriage, then disappates into a flurry of sparks with an ethereal laugh echoing away.
Now before we move on, take a moment to ride through the real Phantom Manor… or at least, the way the ride appeared for its first 26 years. After that, our story will conclude with some surprising changes that Disney made to the ride very recently.
The only way out now is up. Guests step out of their carriages and venture back up through the wine cellar and out into the Boot Hill Cemetery. Set into the hillside along the steaming, spraying, magnificent geysers of Thunder Mesa, the Cemetery is a genuine corner of quite reflection and contemplation with awe-inspiring views…
And that includes the tombstones of Henry and Martha Ravenswood (“Quarreled and fought as man and wife / Now silent together beyond this life”) and an unmarked black sarcophagus said to be the final resting place of Melanie herself… quiet visitors will note the sound of a pulsing heartbeat buried there…
After a few moments of solitude, it’s high time for a return stroll past the manor and back to Thunder Mesa… but if you glance up at the window of the mansion above the exit, you may notice mysteriously moving shutters… and the Phantom himself pulling back the curtains to smile down at exiting guests…
And though that might seem like a fitting end for Phantom Manor, the story isn’t quite over. On the last page, we’ll offer our outlook on what makes Phantom Manor a messy masterpiece and dissect some major changes to the attraction to have materialized over a year-long reimagining… with revisions that some say rewrite the manor’s mythology entirely. There’s no turning back now…