From the nightly perspective of the resident hula dancers who move effortlessly across the House Without a Key stage, the dazzling view of Lē‘ahi (Diamond Head) to her right and the Waikīkī sunset to the left make it impossible for them not to dance: Inspiration is everywhere.
Though in hula the hands may tell the story of enchanted evenings and lovers adorned in fragrant floral lei, seasoned spectators know that it’s all in the eyes. Stylistic characteristics like the tap of a kāholo (hula step) or the sway of the hip may vary based on the hālau (hula school) or kumu (teacher) who taught the dancer her distinct techniques, but the eyes connect her to hula. An emboldened gaze can embody the strength of monarchs past, a flirtatious wink can quicken the heart, and a knowing glance can paint a picture of nostalgia reminiscent of Waikīkī’s golden era of travel. Many of these dancers have perfected their mele (songs) not only because they are practiced entertainers, but because they have lived these stories and breathed these mele through decades of hula study.
At Halekulani, a handful of its dancers—some of whom hold former Miss Hawaii and Miss Hawaii-USA titles or are the best hula ‘auana (modern style) soloists in Honolulu—perform at House Without a Key. We spent a week with dancers Kanoe Miller, Debbie Nakanelua-Richards, Jeanné Kapela, and Brook Māhealani Lee as they brought their distinct passions and prowess for hula to diverse onlookers, some who were witnessing hula in its native land for the first time. For these women, performing on this classic stage is a constant thrill and a familiar home for their hula. In their own words, they shared with us a varied testimony of hula: its beauties, its dedications, and what it means to dance in Waikīkī.
Performer Kanoe Miller.
“Being able to dance in Waikīkī, especially when there’s camaraderie with the other dancers like here, you’re a family. The clientele loves the hula, the scenery, they’ll come specifically just to see the dancers. If you get lucky enough to be invited and perform hula at the Halekulani, you have to know you’re engaging in a very special endeavor.” — brook māhealani lee
“Hula is a part of who we are as Native Hawaiian people. It’s how we learn and how we grow, it’s the art of storytelling and passing those stories down generation by generation. Today, it’s also an opportunity to share our culture. Hula is something that grounds me, to know who I was and am, and to be strongly rooted in that cultural heritage through dance.” — jeanné kapela
“The audience at Halekulani has a far deeper appreciation of our Hawaiian culture and our music, and I believe it shows by the way they accept and appreciate our music. That is really important. It’s an engaged audience because they’re an educated audience—they’re knowledgeable and they’re respectful, and that’s the best thing about it.” — kanoe miller
“You really have to be at the top of your game, it isn’t a place to rehearse or practice. You really need to have the experience to be able to dance in this environment. You’re really close to the audience, and need to be able to communicate with them at another level, to really be in the space of a guest.” — debbie nakanelua-richards
Diamond Head (Lēʻahi)
Mauna, or mountain
“To be a part of this legacy, to share my aloha with every single person that walks in the door and to be able to touch them with a sense of pride for our people and for hula itself is an incredible opportunity. It’s wonderful to be able to watch their eyes light up as they enjoy our hula.” — jeanné kapela
“Waikīkī is the ‘welcome mat’ to this place. I felt like if I was dancing here, I could be part of that welcoming feeling. That was the dream for me, to be a hula dancer who welcomes everyone to Hawai‘i. I wanted to express aloha to our visitors from all over the world and to tell the stories of our islands.” — kanoe miller
“There are two things that dictate the dimension of hula. One is the music, and here at House Without a Key it’s traditional Hawaiian songs. That allows you to dance those hula mele you can’t always find other places. Another component that dictates what and how you dance is the venue. Oftentimes guests will say, ‘Wow, that was magnificent! Your dance!’ And I will always give credit to the place. Look how it surrounds you. You cannot wish or pray for a better stage and setting.” — debbie nakanelua-richards
“To be a part of this legacy, to share my aloha with every single person that walks in the door and to be able to touch them with a sense of pride for our people and for hula itself is an incredible opportunity. It’s wonderful to be able to watch their eyes light up as they enjoy our hula.” — jeanné kapela
“Waikīkī is the ‘welcome mat’ to this place. I felt like if I was dancing here, I could be part of that welcoming feeling. That was the dream for me, to be a hula dancer who welcomes everyone to Hawai‘i. I wanted to express aloha to our visitors from all over the world and to tell the stories of our islands.” — kanoe miller
“There are two things that dictate the dimension of hula. One is the music, and here at House Without a Key it’s traditional Hawaiian songs. That allows you to dance those hula mele you can’t always find other places. Another component that dictates what and how you dance is the venue. Oftentimes guests will say, ‘Wow, that was magnificent! Your dance!’ And I will always give credit to the place. Look how it surrounds you. You cannot wish or pray for a better stage and setting.” — debbie nakanelua-richards
Pua, or flower
Anthurium
“I love putting on the monarchy costume and dancing monarchy dances. But I just as easily love wearing a cellophane skirt and hearing that swish-swish sound. I love that bounce and that feeling from the war days when the cellophane skirt was most prevalent. I also love the holokū (a formal Hawaiian gown style) of the 1930s because of that very gracious time—the golden years of Hawai‘i. And then, I really like dancing in a tī leaf skirt and doing implement dances because as a teenager that’s what I did.” — kanoe miller
“Diamond Head is to the right, Waikīkī is behind you—you have the wind, the waves, and the sea spray. You look up and there’s Nu‘uanu, Pauoa, and Makīkī. You watch the mist come in and a rainbow comes out. You are just in the presence of inspiration. When I dance a mele like ‘Waikīkī’ by Andy Cummings here, it transports me to another space. Oftentimes I can’t remember the mele ending because I’m kind of transmitted somewhere else.” — debbie nakanelua-richards
“I’m a big believer in fresh flowers and lei, so when I come to Halekulani I’m like an Aloha Week float, head to toe in plumerias in the summer, like Karen Keawehawai‘i! I’ve been brought up in the tradition of fresh lei—make your own lei, pick your own flowers. You put the love into it because it really pays off for the audience.” — brook māhealani lee
“I love putting on the monarchy costume and dancing monarchy dances. But I just as easily love wearing a cellophane skirt and hearing that swish-swish sound. I love that bounce and that feeling from the war days when the cellophane skirt was most prevalent. I also love the holokū (a formal Hawaiian gown style) of the 1930s because of that very gracious time—the golden years of Hawai‘i. And then, I really like dancing in a tī leaf skirt and doing implement dances because as a teenager that’s what I did.” — kanoe miller
“Diamond Head is to the right, Waikīkī is behind you—you have the wind, the waves, and the sea spray. You look up and there’s Nu‘uanu, Pauoa, and Makīkī. You watch the mist come in and a rainbow comes out. You are just in the presence of inspiration. When I dance a mele like ‘Waikīkī’ by Andy Cummings here, it transports me to another space. Oftentimes I can’t remember the mele ending because I’m kind of transmitted somewhere else.” — debbie nakanelua-richards
“I’m a big believer in fresh flowers and lei, so when I come to Halekulani I’m like an Aloha Week float, head to toe in plumerias in the summer, like Karen Keawehawai‘i! I’ve been brought up in the tradition of fresh lei—make your own lei, pick your own flowers. You put the love into it because it really pays off for the audience.” — brook māhealani lee
About the Performers
debbie nakanelua-richards
Debbie Nakanelua-Richards has been performing every Sunday at House Without a Key for nearly 30 years. A proud haumāna (student) of iconic hula master Ma‘iki Aiu Lake, Nakanelua-Richards acknowledges her kumu as the source of her passion. Many hold Nakanelua-Richards in high esteem as well, including Halekulani guests. Recently, a tearful woman even approached the dancer before she took the stage to thank her for the kindness she had shared with the guest and her husband 11 years earlier. Though her husband passed away since, the woman continued her annual pilgrimage to the hotel in his honor, and was touched to reconnect with the dancer who made such an impact on them. “I’ve been able to meet so many families who come here from generation to generation, whose grandparents and parents have been married here, so it’s really special to be a part of,” Nakanelua-Richards says.
kanoe miller
Kanoe Miller has been a mainstay dancer on the famed Halekulani grounds for 41 years. “I used to stand from the G Building of Roosevelt [High School] and look down at glittering Waikīkī, staring out at the ocean,” recalls Miller, who was crowned Miss Hawaii in 1973. “I wanted to be part of the fabric of what makes Waikīkī special.” Miller and her two sisters also studied under famed kumu hula Ma‘iki Aiu Lake of Hula Hālau O Ma‘iki. Miller has dedicated her life to sharing her passion for hula with a global audience as a performer and instructor. Having performed for four decades in Waikīkī, Miller is a renowned figure at House Without a Key.
jeanné kapela
For Jeanné Kapela, performing at the House Without a Key for the past seven months has been as much about the performers as it has been about the venue. “A lot of the women that dance here are either a former or current Miss Hawaii,” says Kapela, who was crowned Miss Hawaii in 2015. “I like to think of it as a sisterhood.” The ambitious 23-year-old learned to dance hula from her mother and uncle, both of whom were dancers for Tihati Productions in Kona, whose commercial dance troupe is highly respected for its style and skill. Kapela is running for Hawai‘i House Representative for District 5 and hopes to be the first female and first Native Hawaiian to earn the seat. She balances her campaigning schedule with hula, a way to connect to her roots.
brook māhealani lee
For Brook Māhealani Lee, dancing hula on the House Without a Key stage brings back memories of performing in the Waikīkī hula scene starting at the age of 20. Lee has lived in Los Angeles for 20 years, but returns home each Christmas and for other seasonal schedules to perform at Halekulani. Her early days of hula came from her mother, Toni Lee, who was also a pupil of Ma‘iki Aiu Lake. Lee continued her hula studies with various hālau, namely under kumu Suzanne Ka‘upu, Leinā‘ala Kalama Heine, and Randy Ngum. Even though Lee no longer lives on O‘ahu, her connections to her island home and her own hula history run deep.
Share: