Spirit of Aloha | Articles | Under the Hula Moon | September/October 2006

Under the Hula Moon
By: JOCELYN FUJII

Lovely Hula Hands

PHOTO: OLIVIER KONING

There she dances: Diamond Head to the right, Waikīkī’s waves behind, the sunset a halo around her, a 125-year-old kiawe tree rustling gently overhead. As the Hawaiian trio fills the air with its vintage riffs, Kanoelehua Kaumeheiwa Miller dances hula with an unearthly grace. When she takes the stage at Halekūlani’s House Without a Key, the Mai Tais and coconut shrimp—both the best in this time zone, in my opinion—freeze in midair and faces in the audience turn rapturous.

I am one of the more than 1 million people who have watched Kanoe dance throughout her 29 years on the Halekūlani stage. We are a devoted lot, celebrating in her gifts the boundless layers of Hawai‘i’s beauty. We love the food, the setting, the sunsets, the romance, the synergy of it all—but ultimately it is Kanoe and her dancing that attract us. When there is a special occasion—a birthday, retirement, wedding, arrival, departure, anniversary—or for no reason at all, we are drawn to her stage at the House Without a Key to remember why we live here. Even songs we have heard a million times—“Lovely Hula Hands,” “Sweet Leilani,” “Waikīkī,” “I’ll Remember You”—become fresh and new when interpreted by Kanoe, and we are left hopelessly besotted.

Although she has danced six nights a week for nearly 30 years, as smooth and fluid as a ribbon in a breeze, there is genuine spontaneity. “We don’t discuss the numbers ahead of time,” she explains. “Sometimes I turn around and say, ‘Let’s do this one. Hit it.’ It goes right with the mood. Without talking, there’s a relationship of balance between the musicians and me. They can feel it, too. We know when an audience has a certain energy. There are biorhythms in the world, and each audience, every night, has a certain personality. I can feel that personality and, sometimes, just by feeling it, I know instinctively which songs to dance.”

That is why every person in the audience feels as if she’s dancing just for him or her. The concrete stage is worn to a smooth patina by her bare feet. The flowers and lei are always fresh, the smile genuine and enchanting. “Are you still a learner?” I ask her. “Oh, yes!” she replies. “Just this morning, I came up with a new motion for ‘Lovely Hula Hands,’ the phrase that says, ‘graceful as a bird in motion, gliding like the gulls over the ocean.’ I am a constant learner.”

Inevitably, upon leaving, I lament that the performance is over. I want to capture it and send it to everyone I know, because it would be like transporting the essence of Hawai‘i, with its colors, scents, flowers, nostalgia and seaside ambience.

Well, now I can—not immediately, but soon. Three years of preparation, song selection, costume creation, location scouting, filming and editing of a DVD are nearing completion by Tropical Baby Productions (www.kanoemiller.com), Kanoe and John Miller’s new mom-and-pop endeavor. Having seen the rough cut, I can say this: It’s worth the wait. Twelve of Kanoe’s most requested songs (and a few of her personal favorites), written between 1916 and 1965, were selected for the film, with a spate of other bonuses. The Hiram Olsen Trio, with whom Kanoe danced for 24 years, performs the music. Full and interactively utilizing the capabilities of the medium, the menu allows you to click on options to hear her explain what was going through her mind as she danced, and why she selected the songs, costumes and locations that she did. You can listen in other languages, select interviews with other people, and lose yourself in the environment and culture of Hawai‘i.

Titled Romantic Waikīkī Hula, the film “takes you on a journey, beginning in Waikīkī, visiting beautiful sites around the island through song and dance,” she explains. “And it gives you insight into the feelings and emotions that make hula such a moving experience.”

It will also serve as an ambassador for Hawai‘i, an experience of aloha long after the stage is dark and the Aloha Festivals have come and gone.

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