Glamorous Jingle Bells & Waacking Fouettés

Works & Process Presents Princess Lockerooo’s “The NutWAACKer”—truly one of the best shows I have ever seen, and here’s why. I promise this is not clickbait. 🙂

I know this is ridiculous, considering I’ve lived in New York City for over three years, but I had never been inside the Guggenheim. I was filled with excitement, anticipation, and curiosity when I learned I’d been invited to see Princess Lockerooo’s The NutWAACKer. How could street and club styles like waacking, breaking, hip hop, vogue, and house possibly mash with the sterile, circular white walls of the Guggenheim—in combination with The Nutcracker?! I was immediately intrigued.

Quick shout-out to Works & Process, who commissioned this innovative production and made it possible to bring this show—now one of my absolute favorites—to life.

One thing I always pay attention to when attending performances is the audience the work attracts. Often, these spaces skew—sorry to say it—older and very white (no offense). But this time, for the first time, I saw an audience that truly reflected New York City: young, old, and everything in between; different cultures and backgrounds; dancers, musical theatre kids, friends, family, and maybe even a few Nutcracker enthusiasts. Green flag.

We descended the Guggenheim’s spiral staircase and were seated in the orchestra. On my chair sat a beautiful program and a dollar-bill–style flyer confirming I was exactly where I belonged: Princess Lockerooo’s head depicted as Benjamin Franklin, complete with her contact information and a striking quote contextualizing waacking as an act of liberation.

And for those unfamiliar with waacking, Princess Lockerooo gave us a Waacking 101 refresher before the show even began—reminding me of our call. Oh yeah… did I mention that I interviewed Princess Lockerooo?! Huge fangirl moment—aaaagh!

In our interview, she explained that waacking is the predecessor of vogue, originating on the West Coast. It was born in gay clubs in 1970s California, during a time when queer Black and Hispanic communities faced immense oppression, abuse, and violence. Waacking emerged as rebellion—an embodied act of survival and self-claiming. It’s about loving yourself, taking up space, and being free.

While waacking has specific vocabulary, it isn’t about uniformity. It’s a freestyle dance form—about finding your own path and placing yourself on top of the movement. Physically, waacking draws inspiration from silent film and Hollywood sirens of the silver screen—Greta Garbo, Marilyn Monroe, Marlene Dietrich—channeling their iconic poses and exaggerated expressions. As Lockerooo put it:
“You take Greta Garbo poses, your arms become nunchucks like Bruce Lee, and then BAM—you hit a Marilyn Monroe pose.”

With Lockerooo’s background in musical theatre, combined with over 21 years dedicated to street dance styles—particularly waacking—The NutWAACKer didn’t just feel like a fun, standalone Christmas musical. It felt like a layered, deeply intentional portrait of New York City. The Mouse King became the Rat King. The Sugar Plum Fairy transformed into Sugar Plum Daddy. Clara evolved into Clara/Clarence. The Snow Queen became the Pigeon Queen. Uncle Drosselmeyer reemerged as his unhoused counterpart. The entire story unfolded in Central Park.

Like waacking itself, every character, movement, step, and transition was filled with purpose and imagery. At one point, dancers wearing glowing green, long-sleeved gloves morphed into an ensemble of the night—moving in perfect unison, arms waacking smoothly and precisely, surrounding the main character. The effect was hypnotic: a glamorous whirlwind that blurred reality into something uncanny and dreamlike.

“It’s not just the arms,” Lockerooo said. “That’s what became popular, but it’s a full-body dance. It’s about making people see the music—making the music visual.”

The music—scored and composed by Lockerooo’s husband, Harold O’Neal—reinforced why this work is such a masterpiece. While Nutcracker and musical-theatre-coded melodies ran throughout, each street and club style brought its own sonic texture: breaking beats, hip hop accents, and of course disco—the foundation of waacking. The dancers’ musicality was extraordinary, visible in swift footwork, sharp yet graceful arm movement, nuanced textures, and impeccable timing.

In our interview, Lockerooo explained that disco is essentially classical music with a kick drum—which suddenly made perfect sense. Rather than clashing, The Nutcracker’s classical melodies felt richer and more contemporary when layered with disco, bridging past and present. It was a clear reminder that process matters just as much as product—you could feel the love, respect, and care embedded in every musical and choreographic choice.

“Marry someone who doesn’t just support your dreams but helps make them come true,” Lockerooo said.
Princess Lockerooo, I’m taking notes.

One of the most impressive aspects of the show was how deeply and thoughtfully each street and club style was represented. Michael “Nebz” Narine, who played both the Rat King and Father, delivered breathtaking breaking—toprock, downrock, power moves, seamless transitions—all underscored by a breaking-infused Nutcracker score.

The audience was also given context for these dance forms. In cipher-like battle structures, Clara/Clarence (played by Tomoe “Beasty” Carr) faced off against the Rat King, showcasing incredible house and waacking skills while revisiting the styles encountered throughout the journey. Each dancer shone in their individuality.

Baby Byrne delivered a vulnerable musical theatre solo as the Mother, then stunned the audience with fierce voguing—every dip had me screaming from the last row—before transforming into the Pigeon Queen. Aché Richardson, as Sugar Plum Daddy, commanded the stage in a dazzling purple suit (courtesy of House of Hallucination), blending hip hop grooves, fluid textures, and magnetic facial expressions.

“Dance styles have character. Music has character,” Lockerooo explained. “Think about dance theatrically first. Let intention drive movement—that’s waacking.”

Disco, jingle bells, sparkly costumes, and powerful group waacking phrases filled every inch of the space—onstage, in the aisles, up the stairs—transforming the theatre into a family home, a glamorous ball, icy streets, a mysterious park, and a vibrant club. The experience felt like a lucid dream in the best possible way.

One of my favorite moments featured the NutWAACKer, played by the fabulous Cesar De Assis, alongside Clara/Clarence. Through waacking, the character liberated themself from external expectations, learning to embrace difference and self-expression. And I must mention: the NutWAACKer performed fouettés while waacking. IN. FREAKING. SANE.

Lockerooo’s work reminded me of how much dance can communicate. By centering individuality and using waacking as connective tissue, the show celebrated diversity without sacrificing cohesion. I’m tired of seeing corps de ballet move like identical, virtuosic robots—same bodies, same costumes, same execution, stripped of humanity. The NutWAACKer found unity by leaning into difference.

Tytus Larue James Gibson-Jackson, as Drosselmeyer, brought full musical theatre energy—powerful vocals, vivid physical storytelling, and dynamic dancing. It was giving Broadway. Eva Schmidt, whom I knew from classes, exceeded every expectation as Christmas Eve—sharp, musical, emotionally grounded, and an astonishing singer and actor. Alice Castro, as Waack Frost, was a true chameleon, seamlessly blending musical theatre, street, and funk styles while also contributing as assistant and choreographer.

And let’s not forget: this 60-minute masterpiece was rehearsed in just 10 days. Ten. Days.

Lockerooo shared that she hopes this work will be picked up and performed annually.
“I want people to see me as a director who brings stories to life through bodies and dancers,” she said.

Her commitment to growth, learning, and education is deeply inspiring. She encourages the next generation of artists and waackers to broaden their horizons, become versatile, and follow their curiosities—even when they lead in unexpected directions.

“If you want to learn how to do something,” she said, “throw yourself off a cliff and learn how to fly.”

The NutWAACKer feels majestic and large-scale—full of glitz, glamour, and commercial appeal—yet simultaneously homemade, generous, and deeply human. This is the kind of work I want to see on Broadway.

As a 23-year-old dancer who first fell in love with theatre through watching musicals with my mom, I often feel something is missing: either storytelling lacks depth, or technical mastery lacks soul. Why do we continue to elevate old, wealthy, white narratives while work like this—work that integrates different cultures, voices, classes, and histories—struggles to reach big stages?

I’ve seen many shows. This one easily ranks in my top three.

Unfortunately, The NutWAACKer only had one run at the Guggenheim—for now. Because I am manifesting that one generous, visionary donor is reading this and feels compelled to bring Princess Lockerooo’s work to Broadway.

Truly—what are we waiting for?