Critic’s rating: ★★★
(78 minutes)
Is the sad abandonment of Jazzland, a briefly thriving amusement park in New Orleans that was taken over by Six Flags and then left to rot after Hurricane Katrina devastated the region, best understood as a metaphor for the decline of the Crescent City? Is it a symptom of the area’s ongoing social and economic woes? A mere reflection?
Or should its fate, and legacy — creating continuing urban blight in the New Orleans East neighborhood, with the abandoned park still not demolished or rebuilt, 17 years later — be viewed as entirely separate from that of New Orleans?
Regardless of how the rise and fall of Jazzland is viewed in relation to the city and culture that inspired it, the story makes for a provocative, often heartbreaking tale. It’s all engagingly related in an impressive feature debut by Canadian filmmaker Jake Williams, the 22-year-old star of a popular YouTube series on abandoned malls, resorts and other forgotten facilities and structures.
Urban decay is the star of the show, and a morbid fascination with beautiful ruin may drive viewers’ interest in the birth and death of an attraction that drew an attendance of about 25,000 when it opened to great fanfare in 2000 — opening-day ceremonies included a rousing performance by a gospel choir and the release of doves, as Williams shows us in footage of the events.
The themed areas, given names such as Mardi Gras and Jazz Plaza, were home to a variety of rides, including multiple rollercoasters, a log flume and a Ferris wheel. Despite early signs of success, the regional market ultimately proved too small to support the park and its Greek owner, Alfa SmartParks, eventually went bankrupt.
The City of New Orleans, left holding the bag, in March 2002 sold Jazzland to the Six Flags chain for a reported $22 million. Katrina’s arrival in 2005 devastated Jazzland, along with much of New Orleans, and for a month the 140-acre attraction was submerged in as much as seven feet of floodwater. Six Flags ultimately bailed, retrieving some salvageable hardware and ditching the rest.
The City, despite considering a series of proposals for redevelopment, including one bid for a sports and entertainment complex and another for a shopping village, to date has taken no action to either demolish or redevelop the site. So the park remains standing, its up-in-the-air roller coaster tracks resembling a sort of ghost town in the sky, a spooky presence looming large over nearby highways and byways.
At the front gate, frozen in time, is a sign reading “Closed for Storm.” Williams, given access to the park only after he spent about five months cutting through red tape, takes viewers on a journey across the empty park, making stops at the cluster of ticket offices, a main-street section, and several rides. One of the most affecting sequences is a walk through the administrative offices, where desks, computer equipment, work schedules and various promotional items are strewn here and there, covered in muck, mold and dust. It’s all a bit spooky.
Williams connects with a number of interviewees, including park workers as well as an upper-level marketer, hardcore devotees of the place, and businesspeople hoping to land a contract to redevelop the park. While certainly earnest, and likable, they don’t necessarily make the most engaging of tour guides.
Fans of New Orleans music and culture (like me) probably will find this story compelling, but one wonders about its universal appeal or lack thereof — will it have a similar impact on casual viewers? Is there enough content here to make “Closed for Storm,” which clocks in at 78 minutes, fully qualify as a feature-length documentary, or is it padded too much? Not sure.
Still, it’s a tale well told, and further documentation of how a region and its infrastructure can falter when local civic leaders apparently fail to, you know, show some genuine leadership and do what needs to be done for their constituents. Your move, City of New Orleans.
Movies are rated from 0 to 5 stars.
Follow me on Letterboxd.
