The term “Disney Adult” is a polarizing term used to describe adults (often middle-aged) who are obsessed with the Walt Disney Company. They religiously watch the movies, decorate their homes with Disney merchandise, and frequently visit Disney resorts. To some, the Disney Adult represents a form of arrested development. To others, Disney fandom is no different from any other form of fandom—sports fans and Deadheads do not draw the same ire from the public. What makes Disney fandom somewhat unique is its generality. Disney Adults are not necessarily loyal to a particular set of IP. Rather, they are loyal to a company, consuming everything the company produces.

A fan of the Denver Broncos may support the team with the same fervor as a Disney Adult supports the Disney corporation; however, the typical Broncos fan is probably not a passionate supporter of the NFL corporation. This brand loyalty is particularly fascinating in the context of Disney’s newest venture.

The Cotino community in Rancho Mirage, CA, is a new Disney housing development offering a “vibrant lifestyle” infused with “the storytelling of Disney Imagineers.” Starting in the low $2 millions, buyers can select from one of five home models in this new community in the desert. Centered around an artificial bay, the development offers shops, clubs, community parks, and a range of dining experiences. The Disney influence can be seen throughout the development. The “Artisan Club,” a beachfront clubhouse sitting at the edge of the lake, is inspired by the Parr house from the film Incredibles 2. Disney also promises signature performances and seasonal celebrations “from time to time.” This new development offers the opportunity of a lifetime for wealthy Disney Adults: a Disney-themed oasis loaded with branded events and shops in a community of like-minded individuals.

Developments like Cotino call into question what it means to be a Disney Adult. It is one thing to be a science fiction fan, attending conventions and religiously consuming science fiction content like Star Trek and Star Wars (which is also owned by Disney). It is another thing to spend millions of dollars to live in a Disney-themed home in a Disney-themed community in the desert. To be at the forefront of Disney fandom, an astronomical investment is required. A Disney cruise can cost upwards of $5,000 per person, a ticket to Disneyland costs about $150 (not including travel, Disney-branded lodging, park amenities, etc.), and a Disney home costs more than $2,000,000. Disney has created an ecosystem where fans can dedicate their life savings to consuming Disney.

To advance in rank in the Church of Scientology, members are asked to invest increasingly larger amounts of money into the church. There is always a “next level,” a promise of inner peace waiting around the corner. That corner happens to cost 50% of your savings. While Disney is in no way as dangerous as Scientology, its business model shares similarities. Like Scientology, it draws people in with its light-hearted content that produces a positive emotional response. Disney movies are masterclasses in emotional manipulation. I do not mean to use the word “manipulation” negatively; the purpose of movies is to make you feel, and Disney has undoubtedly mastered the art of feeling. Disney movies allow viewers to escape to a happier, childlike place. Although intended for children, the magic of Disney movies is their cross-generational appeal. They transcend culture, language, and age. This broad appeal is a testament to the talent behind the biggest Disney projects. It is also a business strategy to ensure Disney products reach as large an audience as possible.

These films indoctrinate viewers into the world of Disney. For certain viewers—namely, Disney Adults—Disney products trigger associations with childlike wonder and happiness. These associations are what lead people to Disney parks and cruises. If that movie made me feel good, why not travel to a real-life place where I can experience those feelings in the flesh? But I can only visit the parks a few times a year—why not move to a place where I can feel that way every single day of my life? For a few million bucks, immersing your entire life in Disney is possible à la the Cotino community.

Like Scientology, Disney offers its acolytes an escape from reality—for a price. Disney fans can spend an almost unlimited sum of money to further immerse themselves in the Disney universe and escape the realities of the real world. The Cotino community is the summit of the Disney-verse. In Scientology terms, it is the equivalent of “going clear.”

Despite all this, is adult Disney fandom really deserving of all the ire it receives online? Plenty of people spend ungodly sums of money to immerse themselves in their various fandoms. Returning to the Denver Broncos, certain fans will pay thousands on season tickets and adorn their houses with memorabilia. A Denver Broncos loss in the playoffs often elicits a strong emotional response from the most devoted fans. Is one fandom really worse than any other? And why do people care how others decide to spend their money and free time? The beauty of America is the freedom to do whatever you want (at least in theory).

At the end of the day, people are free to choose how to live their lives. So long as their decisions do not negatively impact those around them, there is no point in getting too upset over how people decide to live. However, there is a danger in zealously devoting yourself to a corporation. Disney exists to make profit; it does so by creating emotional, feel-good experiences for its customers. Disney’s Cotino community exists to extract every possible dollar from its wealthiest fans. Looking at the fine print on the Cotino website, Disney makes it clear that the Incredibles-themed clubhouse is subject to additional fees. The website also states that the water levels of the artificial bay are subject to fluctuation, and no warranty exists for continued operation of the bay. Disney is selling the promise of a happier life—but these promises are subject to additional fees, with no warranty for their continued existence.

Happiness cannot be bought—at least not for most people. I am always skeptical when corporations market happiness for sale. Most Disney Adults probably just like the parks and movies, like any other fan enjoys their various interests. However, for the select few, Disney borders on cult in their utopian visions of community living. Disney cannot actually provide a better life, only a $2,000,000 home on an artificial bay with an Incredibles-themed clubhouse.