When my friends asked me the “What should we expect?” question, I was stumped. No attempt at an answer felt sufficient. After watching Prowl, I still cannot tell you precisely what the show is—and this is an excellent indication of its power. It is a testament to the depth of thinking, passion, and immense care that went into its development. Like its subject matter, Femininity, Prowl is a phenomenon that eludes clear definition. It is complex, multiplicitous, and intricate, and through the web of possible accolades for Prowl, this feels most appropriate: it is beautiful because it is honest.
The show traverses varied terrain in a series of vignettes. The scenes move from intimate solos to engaging duets, trios, and ensemble moments featuring the entire cast working in complete synchronicity. Notably, for a show that explores the complexities of femininity, the eight-person cast of Prowl is diverse in their gender expressions and identities. These artists provide a queer POC perspective on femininity, which is apt for the current political climate. Their individual and specific connections to femininity are honoured with a breadth and depth that is often hidden by the dominance of contemporary white patriarchal hegemony.
Archetypes from pop culture are toyed with and inverted; personal narratives are given space to breathe. In a time where second- and even third-wave feminism is being misappropriated into TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminist) ideology, which denies the humanity of takatāpui, gender non-conforming and trans people, Prowl staunchly embodies femininity through intersectionality. The broad range of stories is woven together through the movement language of street dance theatre, influenced by Waacking.
These dance styles, originating in and upheld by queer BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and other people of colour) communities, are executed with skill and confidence. The assertion of Street Dance and Waacking as authoritative art forms to discuss the politics of body and identity feels particularly profound. Especially impressive was the use of Waacking in unison—the ability of the dancers to be utterly together throughout incredibly complex and precise movements formed a strong anchor for the dramaturgical development of the show.
The decision to stage the show in traverse induced a sense of community between members of the audience. The interactions that emerged organically between strangers seeing each other share laughs or knowing glances developed our relationship with both the performers and each other. This collective reciprocity is reminiscent of Vogue Balls and Street Dance Battles. I was equally touched by watching someone express awe, sorrow, and joy across from me as I was by experiencing those emotions myself.
By turns powerful, cheeky, sorrowful and funny, the show tapped into the best parts of a live performance’s capacity for empathy. The performers delivered masterful performances with power, skill, and grace and maintained authenticity throughout. Particular highlights included: a Charlie’s Angels-inspired trio, in which three combat-ready dancers performed impressive athletic feats (Layla Dole, Vivian Xu and Lara Chuo); a doomed yet unfortunately familiar love affair featuring a stunning wedding gown (between Andrew Cornish wearing the gown, and Gabriel ‘Princess’ Halatoa); a lone dancer (Ella Rerekura) performing a sorrowful song, and building into an arresting crescendo of rage-fuelled movement with three dancers (Ella Rerekura, Ehetere Rua and Hayley Walters-Tekahika).
Performer Gabriel ‘Princess’ Halatoa also delivered a biting monologue, an aunty musing on what Femininity means, which had the audience both in peals of laughter and hanging in anticipation. The monologue developed into an ‘ask the audience’, with the performer asking audience members what their definition of ‘femininity’ is, enhancing the sense of community. It was also an acknowledgement of the complex individual connections everybody has with femininity.
The fun and unpredictability of asking the audience brought a liveliness to the work—Prowl will never be the same twice. Just as femininity is unique and specific to everyone, Prowl is unique and specific to every audience that attends. Just as femininity is, Prowl is ever-evolving, shifting, and morphing. Its forms are unexpected and astounding. The show was defined by its sense of intimacy, sincerity, and vulnerability.
Despite being a show exploring femininity, Prowl never attempts to singularly define ‘femininity.’ Instead, it offers a plethora of varied ways this experience is and can be embodied, making rich material for reflection and consideration. Dance, especially when performed live, is a uniquely affective medium—the gravity of a person moving, becoming vulnerable and powerful an arm’s length away from you, inspires feelings which can often be profound, confusing and confronting. There are few places so apt for discussing the politics of the body and identity as dance. The work of feeling is complex but necessary, joy can be honoured alongside pain. Prowl demonstrates that live performance is a vital space for connection, reflection, and social change.
Prowl is an urgent reminder of the vital need for visibility and pride. Now more than ever, shows like this need to be performed, to be loud and well-attended. The day after the show, multiple friends message me, expressing how much they enjoyed and are still thinking about Prowl. I sincerely hope to see this mahi continue. Congratulations to the Prowl team on a phenomenal show.
