Review: Cirque du Soleil AUANA at OUTRIGGER Waikīkī Beachcomber Hotel

Like many locals, I avoid Waikiki like the plague. Too crowded, too little parking, too expensive, too many tourists, just too… much. As I was elbowing my way through packs of tourists in International Marketplace and out on to Kalākaua’s sidewalks, I will admit that I was not in the most receptive or enthusiastic state of mind when I finally arrived at the entrance to ‘Auana, located in the Outrigger Waikiki Beachcomber Hotel. But as soon as I entered the intimate 784-seat theatre, I was instantly transported to another time and place, like some sort of dream realm of a Hawai’i of yesteryear—distant, but not forgotten. With dim lighting, projections of a serene twilight ocean playing across the backdrop, and gentle guitar (and later, Hawaiian nose flute) melodies played by John Signore seated casually on the edge of the thrust stage, it was immediately clear that ‘Auana was not just going to be a unique show by Hawai’i standards, but by Cirque du Soleil standards as well.

‘Auana, in short, defies description. I had my reservations back in 2024 when it was first announced that Cirque du Soleil was creating a brand-new show for and about Hawai’i. I have seen a good handful of Cirque du Soleil shows over the years, and while they are stunning and creative, I was curious to see how the pageantry and surrealistic style of Cirque could be blended with traditional Hawaiian culture in a way that wasn’t going to come off as performative (in all senses of the word) or, worse, as cultural appropriation. Though the lāhui has made great strides in terms of fighting for authentic representation in media since the cultural renaissance of the 1970s, there is still a long way to go, and I worried that a collaboration with the French Canadian circus behemoth would hinder more than help that purpose. I am delighted to report that my misgivings were almost entirely misplaced, and ‘Auana is nothing short of a joyous celebration of Hawai’i and Hawaiians in all our iterations: past and present, earthly and ethereal.

Right off the bat, I was delighted (and relieved) to discover that a deliberate choice had been made to perform the entire show in ‘ōlelo hawai’i rather than the typical “Grommelot” or “Cirquish” gibberish common in most Cirque shows. This is the first time since the Mexican folklore-themed Luzia in 2016 that a single extent language has been used in a Cirque du Soleil show, and it was a delight to hear ko mākou alelo makuahine utilized to such a degree, despite (or perhaps because) the vast majority of the audience would likely only be understanding a word or two. Even the Maui-esque Trickster, Hawaii’s own Salvador Salangsang, spoke a mix of English and ‘ōlelo to his unsuspecting audience volunteers during a hysterical orchestration of the “Hawaii 5-0” theme. Mr. Salangsang’s performance throughout the show was clowning local style at its finest, and he seamlessly maneuvered between both the reverential and comedic facets of Maui’s stories, from using his legendary fish hook to pull down the sun and pull up the islands from the sea, to interspersing himself among both the performers and the audience. Clowning has always been a key element to any Cirque du Soleil show, and it was wonderful to see our homegrown trickster demigod fill that role in such a unique way.

The featured acts throughout the show absolutely stunned with their artistry and athleticism, with each act corresponding to an aspect of Hawaiian history and culture. I found this integration of circus with Hawaiian culture was most effective in the sand painting act performed by Vira Syvorotkina. This segment fully gave me chickenskin, as Ms. Syvorotkina deftly told the creation story of Papa and Wākea, the sand in her hands transforming into our one hanau, to the tune of a stunning rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” sung beautifully in ‘ōlelo by local singer Christina Tollinchi Souza. I was also particularly impressed by the Rola Bola surf act by Cuban artist Keniel Rodriguez Mesa, in a daring display of balance and strength, beautifully echoing the feats of he’e nalu. The aerial lyra act by Lois Camila Gomes Da Silva’s as the moon goddess Hina was another standout, as was the nail-biting volcanic power of Jerson Valencia Garcia and Luis Cardona’s Wheel of Life act, clad in capes reminiscent of red ‘apapane and lehua blossoms. However, I was somewhat taken out of the world of ‘Auana by the rollerskating duo set to the mo’olelo of Naupaka and Kau’i. The act itself, performed by Scotland’s Christopher Tees and Ukraine’s Maryna Sakhokiia was breathtaking, and I was glad to see them costumed as the embodiment of the naupaka kahakai and naupaka kuahiwi rather than the kānaka they represent, but there was a disconnect for me in seeing an ancient Hawaiian story of doomed lovers told on something as modern as rollerskates. But truth be told, that was the only gripe I had, and it was a minor one at that.

While the featured acts are truly spectacular, it is the ensemble of dancers who provide the lifeblood of ‘Auana. They are integrated throughout the show, performing multiple varieties of modern dance, hula kahiko, and hula ‘auana. Whether swinging silk poi balls to evoke the waves during the surfing act, becoming the moon-pulled tides during Hina’s lyra act, or simply lounging around the stage being entertained by a juggler (Thomas Janke) on the beach, they embodied all that Hawai’i is today: both modern and traditional, fluid, beautiful, yet firmly rooted. I was especially mesmerized by their contribution to the fiery Wheel of Life act, clad in pa’u made of dynamically designed strips of fabric reminiscent of kāpala-stamped kapa (incredible costume designs by Manaola Yap) as their song for Pele and the rhythms of their kālā’au beat in time to the death-defying act behind them. Under the direction of Kumu Hula Hiwa Vaughn and Cultural Creative Producer Dr. Aaron J. Salā, the beauty and agency given to these local artists transformed ‘Auana into a show that is both accessible to malihini and venerational to kānaka maoli, from the first strains of the ‘ohe hanu ihu to the spectacular ānuenue finale.

Director Neil Dorward said of ‘Auana: “It is my hope that our audiences will be transported into a world where stories can live unconstrained by reality, honoring the land and the people of Hawai’i.” I believe this production has fully achieved that goal, and it is my hope that the echoes of the finale’s chorus “E ola ka lāhui/E hui i nā kūpuna” will reverberate through Waikiki and beyond for many moons to come.

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