The Psycho house sits on the perch it occupied during production of Psychos II and III. The Bates Motel set, which should be nestled in the dusty foothill below, may be absent. The sign is there, but peeks toward the road show only dirt. This is the only hint as to the fluid geography of the backlot - exact location of the house itself is only publicly documented by its appearances in TV shows and other movies. At the time, both facades were still stars. The Bates was fully built out after the first sequel got away with a few rooms and a matte painting. The overhaul, however, would be mostly for the tourists - production of Psycho IV: The Beginning was delayed until 1990 to make full cross-promotional use of the brand-new Universal Studios Florida.

Regulars of that park should recognize Hollywood’s New York Street. Some of the endlessly adaptable storefronts and apartment buildings were borrowed more or less wholesale. A clip from The Sting cranes down past the Priscilla Hotel. It may not look identical to its tropical counterpart, but the slogan over the door remains - For Single Young Ladies. Henry Bumstead, acclaimed set designer for that film and many, many more, strolls a blank boulevard and reminisces about its best performances. “I always try to do sets the way people imagine things to be, not maybe the way they actually are.” Sound advice from a man who won an Oscar for faking Chicago on a block of Manhattan in Southern California.

Anyone still unconvinced by the flexibility of this particular zip code will appreciate the behind-the-scenes footage from Walter Hill’s criminally underseen Streets of Fire. It’s a rock and roll fantasy set in “another time, another place,” under the constant glow of neon and constant cover of night. There are only so many ways to fake that, so they didn’t - a massive, black tarp was stretched from one rooftop to another, all the way down the street. It’s awe-inspiring to see, as simple in its execution as it is unthinkable today. 

But most of the tape is, one way or another, unthinkable today. New York Street has since burned down. The theme park material is relegated to the last third and never quite separated as such. The Western Stunt Show is presented more as a lunch hour demonstration than an attraction in its own right. “Maybe I’ll become the next John Wayne,” jokes stuntman Steve Gilliam. If not him, perhaps one of the hand-standing chimps from the Animal Actors School Stage. These shows, then the park’s oldest, are merely extensions of the magic trick. Sets, props, special effects. Performers were just another fundamental of the filmmaking process.

Universal Studios Hollywood wasn’t quite a destination yet - its first dark ride, E.T. Adventure, and the entire Lower Lot were still four years away - but MCA Recreation, the forerunner to Universal Creative, had plans.

If you squint, you can see some of them on the wall as Universal luminaries - Robert Ward, Peter Alexander, Barry Upson - talk shop about the Miami Vice Stunt Spectacular. In the late ‘80s, that’s as hot as TV gets. It’s a brand none of them take lightly.

50 stunts in 18 minutes. 15 contractors on the effects work alone. Speedboats. Mine carts. A helicopter that smokes on cue. It’s the next advance in a style now long out of fashion, save the exceptional veterans like WaterWorld. The footage is no less impressive now than it was 34 years ago. More impressive still is the b-roll of actors practicing before the stage was even built. Drifting around in golf carts instead of go-fast boats. Ziplining from the top of an otherwise bare phone pole. Shaking fingers instead of roaring Uzis. Although the effect is simulated - traditional stunt performers don’t have to hit the same marks a dozen times daily - the craft is indistinguishable from the real thing.

What Beyond Behind the Scenes illustrates best is the seamless evolution of Universal Studios Hollywood from a backlot tour to centerpiece of a theme park empire.

When Carl Laemmle opened his studio to guests in 1915, it cost them a quarter for a box lunch and front row seat. Then the pesky advent of sound came along and ruined it. When the trams arrived in 1964, relaunching the tour as a dedicated attraction, it was an unexpected blueprint.

In a 1971 commercial, Hitchcock sits before a sizzle reel and narrates in his bulldog monotone. As one of the candy-apple-red trams passes by, he spots himself sitting among the passengers and remarks, “You do meet the strangest people on the tour.” That sales pitch survives to this day. By the time this tape was produced, Hitchcock was only one of the strange stars. King Kong, Jaws, and a variety of natural disasters had joined him, wowing guests in a way no standing set ever could.  Just watch visitors enter the rotating tunnel, the camera stabilized with the spin, and try not to feel something/nauseous.

The Adventures of Conan: A Sword and Sorcery Spectacular was the benchmark at the time, “the ultimate combination of ingredients.” It takes the best in cinematic effects and marries them into a 20-minute tour de force. There aren’t as many stunts to it as the Miami Vice show across the park, but they’re in the same class. Just different departments on the same lot.

Just like Disneyland before it, Universal Studios Hollywood was borne out of the best and brightest in film and TV putting their magic wand to regular, repeatable use. The only difference is Universal doesn’t get as much credit for the progress.

Beyond Behind the Scenes catches it all in the transition, a quiet set between productions, waiting for the craftsmen and creatives to dress it properly and make it real.

The opening narration deems Universal Studios “the biggest fantasy factory on Earth” and everything after feels like accidental foreshadowing.

The biggest fantasy factory on Earth?

Almost.

Not yet.