Most of the attractions had English translations available through a remotely activated headphone system, although those that didn't left me struggling with my limited French ability to quite grasp what was happening. The most baffling experience was a 3D computer-animated game inside a cinema, in which the audience were required to battle against each other by holding up fluorescent batons in order to influence the direction of a craft on the screen. A lady standing at the front gave continual instructions and suffocated me with words I couldn't understand, so I resorted to just waving my arms about in the air like a drowning mime artist. Half of the French didn't know what was happening either. Many of the features were quite spectacular, including one cinema where in addition to the giant screen at the front, the entire audience was seated on an enormous frame that perched above a one hundred foot drop, under which was a second screen curving beneath the floor. The film on show followed a butterfly on a flight across waterfalls and valleys, and looking down provided the unnerving sense of being high in the sky, although the synchronization of the footage on each screen was far from perfect. When I first entered the auditorium it was dark, and I could vaguely make out what I thought were little TV screens under the see-through floor, but once it lit up to reveal the immense, cavernous chamber below me I almost wet myself. Other cinematic attractions on offer included simple 3D-spectacle-wearing affairs, or involved sitting on simulators which responded to the screen action. Another round theatre displayed a 360-degree film about Brazil, in which the audience stood turning around to follow the action, and were gifted with the sensation of being right in the middle of a street carnival. 'Destination Cosmos' was a traditional planetarium which took visitors on a journey through the universe, to the inevitable accompaniment of fidgety children whinging to their parents 'I wanna go on something more interesting than this', and a remarkable three-dimensional film in one building put me in the seat of the Space Shuttle, with some quite incredible 'never-seen-before footage' exclusive to Futuroscope, so they said. Even in my two-day stay I wouldn't have time to see every attraction, although I did ensure I performed the ritual of riding the rotating tower - as found in every theme park on Earth - from where I was able to get a better aerial impression of the many peculiar surrounding buildings (above and below). My most embarrassed state was to be experienced during a ride housed in one of the less impressive buildings, which had obviously been put up at an early stage when design wasn't of fundamental importance. Having navigated a long series of queue chains, I cringed when I passed the entrance and found that I had to board a small spherical car with a bench inside, suspended from a cable, in which sat a happy couple in each of the vehicles that set off ahead of me, presumably looking forward to romantic opportunities that might be offered in the dark recesses of the ride. The lady controlling access to the cars was reluctant to let me board alone for fear of what disease I must carry, but a party of schoolgirls arrived and blocked the path behind me, merrily skipping in pairs. She had no choice, and I sat like a fool by myself in the slowly spinning ball which moved at a speed of less than one mile per hour. During the journey, riders were presented with a series of mock stage sets showing the tricks behind the making of movies. I had to confess that it was a decent enough effort and I did my best to enjoy it, whilst cowering each time the car spun and all the couples ahead turned to face me and snigger at my lonely occupation of the mobile unit. Unfortunately, having witnessed a bright flash halfway through, I knew what fate awaited me at the end as an assistant came to see me out of the car. I had to pass a series of screens showing photos of each recent set of passengers, and there was I, hat pulled over my eyes doing my best to hide, sitting pretty in my sad little cup-car. Teenagers glanced at the screens, then at me, then back at the screens and put hands over their mouths, which were destined to explode into laughter once I exited. |
After 6pm, the park went eerily quiet as coach tours departed for the regions, and remaining visitors waiting for the final spectacle late at night inhabited the restaurants. Music sounded from the speakers buried in the ground around the paths, with that very distinct empty theme park echo effect, although the assortment of tunes they piped through the park was quite groovy, with some fab easy listening loungecore classics thrown in! It was an ideal time to make use of the free Internet access available in the 'Cyber Avenue' hall - an otherwise noisy haven of gaming machines and teenage nerds, so I made my first assault on catching up with everybody who I had neglected back in England for the last few days. Due to the lack of external facilities in the area, I had splashed out extra cash for a ticket which included meals. What they didn't tell me, however, was that only certain establishments in the park would remain open each day for evening dinner, not the full range advertised in their promotional literature, leaving me with no option other than the Festival Pizza. Which would have been fine but for the fact that I didn't eat pizza, or rather I did eat genuine traditional pizza as originated in parts of Italy which never actually contained cheese, unlike the mistaken bastardized versions on sale today around the world which would insist upon this ingredient as an absolute necessity. There was a slightly posh restaurant contained within the pizza place, which had an enlarged menu containing some pretentious dishes. So I was relieved to find one or two other offerings which didn't contain the aforementioned evil food, except that when I ordered a pasta dish with the explicit requirement of 'sans fromage, pas du fromage', it arrived on my table smothered in the stuff, as if to taunt me. Sadly, Lone Syndrome was once again to be my disease which I carried like a name tag, as dozens of couples on other tables stared and smirked throughout their meals as I sat with Mister Beer, my new-found liquid friend. Every night a grand finale was staged for those who could hang around long enough. Based around a lake full of submerged pyrotechnics, a sort of water-based laser light show named Le Miroir d'Uranie was performed to the audience. After the fall of night, which in this case was very late, and after a tedious warm-up man had threatened the audience with personal humiliation, the show began. A most brilliant piece occurred when a series of jets flung up a mighty wall of water, onto which was projected the image of a girl who played a part in the show's storyline. Children gasped, balls of fire leapt into the air, I choked on the resulting smoke and fireworks finished the fandango with a flourish. It was quite a unique performance, and one which people would need to see firsthand to fully grasp the individuality of, so I felt glad to have stayed and witnessed it even if I did nearly keel over with asphyxiation. It added to the drama, and the tension - not least in my throat. The show finished, the park emptied, and I returned to my creepily quiet hotel in which I firmly believed I was the only guest. For some reason, they had awarded me a room containing four beds, perhaps assuming my single booking to be a cover for some highly active social life that demanded high-life hotel stays and a nightly ménage à quatre. I was relieved to find that having booked one of the two hotels at the budget end of the scale, they hadn't as a consequence filled my room with other unwitting cheapskate guests. Although had they been of the correct bodily form, I probably wouldn't have protested. HOSTEL REPORT: Hôtel
Futuroscope, Parc du Futuroscope, 86130 Jaunay-Clan (near Poitiers,
Vienne) |