The Bizarre Horror Movie Disney Doesn’t Want You to See

In 2013, director Randy Moore debuted his daring black-and-white horror head trip Escape from Tomorrow at the Sundance Film Festival. The low-budget indie caused a significant stir - more than any other film in the line-up that year - because it was secretly filmed almost entirely on location at both Disney World and Disneyland.

Escape stars Roy Abramsohn as Jim, a loving father who takes a family vacation to Disney World with his wife Emily and their children. On their last day in the Happiest Place on Earth, Jim is unceremoniously fired from his job. Unwilling to let it ruin what remains of their vacation, Jim keeps the bad news to himself. But as the secret gnaws at him, his trip gradually descends into madness, revealing a hedonistic playground beneath the park’s sunny façade; one where the Princesses work as prostitutes, emu meat is served, and guests are experimented on by inhuman corporate overlords.

So how exactly did Moore - an amateur filmmaker working with a little more than $500,000 - manage to make a horror movie right under Disney’s nose? The story is just as impressive as the film.

Childhood Origins

The idea for Escape from Tomorrow came to Moore in 2009. A struggling filmmaker living in Los Angeles, Moore was looking to move the needle on his stalled career by directing a movie. He started brainstorming potential "big" ideas that he could film with a some friends and a shoe-string budget, and settled on a story set in Disney World. The plot still needed work, but Moore knew he wanted to incorporate popular Disney urban legends (like the turkey legs actually being emu legs) into the story, as well as his own childhood memories of trips to the park with his estranged, alcoholic father.

The plot solidified in Moore’s head after a trip to Disney with his family: his wife, a nurse and immigrant from the former Soviet Union, said the park was “worse than working the psych ward at the hospital.” He started experiencing the park through his wife's eyes. As someone who didn't grow up with Mickey Mouse, it became much harder to forgive the crowds, the cost, and the heat. Disney no longer felt like a magical place, but a cynical creation overseen by billionaires in boardrooms.

Moore immersed himself in all-things Disney, building out the dark underbelly of the Happiest Place on Earth. He started taking trips to the park with his kids to scope out potential shots and locations.

After a “feverish month of crazy writing,” Moore had a script and a rough plan for his increasingly-daunting vision.

Assembling a Team

Moore’s first attempt to bring his idea to life - with nothing more than some friends and good intentions - resulted in failure and the filmmaker’s self-described mental breakdown. But Moore took a more “professional” route for his second go-around, hiring a cinematographer (from Mandy.com), an assistant director, and a casting director to help find actual actors.

Moore and cinematographer Lucas Lee Graham planned more extensive scouting missions to both Disneyland and Disney World, setting up shots and dialing in the details of the script. Given the secretive nature of the production and limited budget, it was paramount that Moore and Graham were able to get their shots efficiently and without drawing attention to themselves. Every camera angle and line of dialogue had to be planned to a tee. Moore went so far as to chart the position of the sun weeks in advance to attain optimal lighting, since they couldn’t use proper equipment.

After running through the film “eight of nine times," Moore brought in the actors and began extensive rehearsals. When he felt confident that everyone knew their lines and blocking, he purchased season passes and began filming.

Guerrilla Filmmaking in the Happiest Place on Earth

Given the clandestine nature of the production, Moore and his team had to get crafty when filming Escape from Tomorrow.

To remain innocuous, the crew used consumer-grade cameras and hidden, pocket-sized LAV mics to record audio: to the unsuspecting eye, they looked like normal park visitors. (Moore argued that you’d probably look more suspicious if you weren’t on your phone, snapping pictures and taking videos.)

To minimize attention, Moore only shot a handful of takes per scene. When possible, they shot during off-peak hours and at night to avoid crowds. In an interview with Filmmaker Magazine, Moore explained what a typical day of shooting looked like:

“We rehearsed each day’s dialogue in the morning, usually in my hotel room. The schedule was extensive and planned carefully weeks ahead of time to coincide with the direct location of the sun during each shot. There was no crowd control. I had to block the scenes with just the actors, then pull them aside and bring in our DP and usually the “B” camera operator, while our AD stayed back with the cast and waited for their cue via an iPhone.

Takes were usually limited to just three or four before we’d arouse suspicion and have to go someplace else – it really all depended on the amount of traffic and visibility and the time of day. The night stuff was a little easier.”

Moore later recalled one particular close call on the last day of production, when everything almost went up in flames. The actors were approached by security after they were seen re-entering the park multiple times in order to nail a take. Leads Roy Abramsohn and Elena Schuber were asked if they were famous, as security had noticed people “snapping their pictures.”

Playing the role of an actual family, Roy convinced security that they had to return to their car to get sunscreen for their kids. Elena escorted the kids to the bathroom, where they hid their mics and audio equipment and slipped out of the park, hidden by the afternoon parade. Roy was able to smooth-talk his way out of the encounter, but Moore didn’t want to tempt fate and risk losing all their footage. He wrapped filming that day.

Post-Production Secrecy

The film’s grueling production took its toll on Moore; the director had lost nearly 50 pounds from the stress of the shoot But even with filming complete, Moore wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Their first obstacle was a visual mishap: once in the editing room, Moore noticed a black dot right in the middle of every shot, which he attributed to tree sap that messed with the camera’s sensors. The problem was fixable, but Moore would have to send all of his illegally-obtained footage to a production house, thus putting the entire project on the line should anything leak. Soojin Chung, the film’s editor and producer, found a post-production house in South Korea that was able to digitally remove the blemish without the risk of Disney finding out.

Moore and Chung edited and worked on the film’s special effects for the next year, with most of the post-production work taking place under borderline-paranoid secrecy in an unassuming office in east L.A. At this point, it was still unknown if anyone would even see the film, but Moore remained dedicated, convinced that he would find some form of legal salvation under the guise of fair use.

Once Escape from Tomorrow was officially complete, Moore and his producers began sending the movie out to international film festivals, convinced they wouldn’t be able to secure an American screening. But in a stroke of luck, Chung had run into Sundance senior programmer John Nein at an event and told him about the film, putting it on his radar. Six months later, Escape from Tomorrow made its debut at Sundance, one of the most prestigious independent film festivals in the world.

The House of Mouse Responds

Despite a much-discussed premiere, Escape from Tomorrow faced one more major hurdle: distribution. Given the questionable legality of the film’s production, as well as its unsavory depiction of Disney World, it seemed all but obvious that Escape would never see the light of day, and whoever was brave enough to try would face a mountain of litigation and lawsuits. Luckily, indie distributor Cinedigm was up for the challenge and released the movie, taking on a substantial amount of risk should Disney take them to court.

Surprisingly, Disney decided to do…nothing. While it’s fair to assume Bob Igor wasn’t happy about the film, bringing a notable lawsuit against it would only bring more attention the very thing they wanted dead and buried. In the end, the company simply ignored the movie.

Disney’s lack of legal action seemed to have had the desired effect: Escape from Tomorrow failed to recoup even a quarter of its $650,000 budget during its limited theatrical run, and has, for the most part, become just another cult movie blip.

Ten Years Later

Ten years after its initial release, Escape from Tomorrow remains an impressive feat of experimental, independent filmmaking. Though not without its flaws, Moore’s film is an admirable slice of gonzo entertainment from an artist with the audacity to take on the biggest entertainment company in the world. For that reason alone, it’s worth seeking out.

Originally published on Movieweb.com in Oct. 2023.