Marcelo Pacleb sits in the dark theater and watches his dancers rehearse onstage.

"She’s a flight attendant and a double-major," he says, pointing to a lithe young woman who is, seemingly impossibly, emerging as though unfolding herself from inside a magician’s box.

"He’s in the National Guard."

"I’ve known that one since she was 4 years old. She used to be so small and so round."

There are 90 dancers in Pacleb’s 24-VII Danceforce senior company. In the younger group, ages 4-13, there are more than 100 students. Pacleb knows everyone’s name, their backstory, their struggles and their dreams. When he talks about the dancers, he calls them "my kids" and when he speaks of their training, he focuses on gentle things like encouragement and second chances, not hard things like body weight or bleeding toes.

Pacleb, 56, does not come across like the star maker he is. There is a warmth and soulfulness about him, though to be sure, his program stresses excellence and discipline.

So many professional dancers have come through Pacleb that it’s almost impossible to make a list without leaving someone out. To name just a few: Mark Kanemura, who has toured with Lady Gaga; Mark Villaver, who is a dancer in Taylor Swift’s tour; Cole Horibe, who starred in David Henry Hwang’s "Kung Fu" off-Broadway; Alicia Vela-Bailey, stunt double for Zoe Saldana in "Avatar"; Conrad Pratt, who toured with Ricky Martin; Kupono Aweau, who is performing with Madonna; Gil Duldulao, longtime choreographer and collaborator for Janet Jackson; and many finalists on the FOX TV show "So You Think You Can Dance."

When asked about his impact on the lives of these former Hawaii kids who are touring the world, he says, "All I can do is open the door. They’re the ones who have to walk through. It’s all them."

When Janet Jackson’s concert was in town this month, Pacleb got to visit his students — makeup artist Preston Meneses, assistant choreographer Whyley Yoshimura and creative director Duldulao, who are with the tour. "I went to the rehearsal. The Hawaii kids were running the whole rehearsal. I was so proud," he says, adding, "They didn’t change at all."

This weekend, the dance studio is staging its 58th show. Pacleb keeps track of such things. His memory is remarkable. He watches the rehearsal and remembers things he wants to work on without writing notes.

The dance concert at Windward Community College’s Paliku Theatre is more like something you’d pay $120 a ticket to see at the Blaisdell than the typical dance recital. It was inspired by Charles Dickens’ "A Christmas Carol," though not literal in its telling. It is intricate, polished, full of breathtaking moments.

During a break in the rehearsal, some dancers quietly venture into the audience to ask Pacleb questions about cues or costumes. Each approaches respectfully, though not fearfully, as though they know it’s OK to ask. Pacleb has an answer for anything that comes his way. He is able to keep track of everything, down to who is missing a bow tie for his costume and who needs to restitch a skirt. He knows all the choreography, the music cues, the patterns of movement on stage.

"I’ve been doing this for 35 years," he says, smiling. "If I don’t know these things, something is wrong."

Nothing is wrong. Everything is bold and artful and precisely right. Pacleb is a man who was brave enough to follow his calling. It was the road less traveled, and it has made all the difference for so many after him.

A fateful decision

He thought he would be an accountant.

Pacleb was the sixth of seven children born to an Okinawan mother and a Filipino father. The family, along with his paternal grandparents, lived in a three-bedroom house in Aiea.

He didn’t dance as a child. He was a shy kid who liked math and art. His mother tells stories about him putting on his Sunday dress shoes and pretending to tap dance around the house, but he has no memory of that. He does, however, recall being a perpetual wallflower at school socials. At his Aiea High class of ’76 senior prom, he didn’t dance a single dance.

Everything changed in his first semester of college. He and his girlfriend challenged each other to sign up for a course that they’d never dream of taking. Pacleb signed up for a modern dance class taught by Aiko Masuda at Leeward Community College.

"The class was taught on stage, no mirrors," he said. He was hooked almost immediately. "From then on, I never stopped dancing."

That introduction to dance, though done on a dare, shaped his artistic vision for the rest of his career. He came to see dance as an expression of individuality rather than the perfection of a form. "In ballet and jazz, there’s one way to do it correctly. In modern, it comes from a raw place," he says. "That’s why we say, ‘Don’t try to be like anyone else. Be the best YOU that you are. Let it come out.’ How much power is in that, right?"

His first professional experience came when Masuda auditioned him for a dance company. He was selected, but after six months, it was clear that he wasn’t a good fit.

"I hadn’t broken any policies so they couldn’t fire me, but I knew I wasn’t wanted." He suffered through and tried his best, but decided he never wanted to make another dancer feel like that. He tells his students to reach out to the person next to them in class.

"You never know, you could end up being best friends," he tells them.

Through his 20s, he performed and taught. He spent a summer in Los Angeles taking classes and became known in Hawaii for his innovative choreography. The name of his dance company goes back to the early ’90s when he and his friends had booked a show but couldn’t find a time to rehearse. They set their rehearsal time for 4 a.m.

"Everybody came," Pacleb says, "so we said, ‘We will dance any time.’"

His dance program, which has a studio in Windward Mall, is run as a nonprofit with a board of directors and office staff. "I just like to do the creative things," Pacleb says. Classes offered include ballet, jazz, hip-hop and funk. He promotes students through the ranks into leadership and teaching roles. "I have my choreographers, and they know the latest styles, the latest moves."

He stopped dancing when he was 42 because of knee injuries, but he does just about everything else. He is artistic director for every show, weaving together the different dance styles into a cohesive storyline — one of the marks of a 24-VII dance concert is the theatricality and storytelling of the performance.

Pacleb also mixes and edits the music used in the show, shoots and edits video that runs along the back wall of the stage like moving set design, and sews costumes. "I taught myself to sew," he says. "For our very first performance, I made vests from the zebra-print sheets on my bed."

He also directs the University of Hawaii’s Rainbow Warrior dance team, and goes to all of its performances. This weekend, he will split his time between the dance concerts at Paliku and a UH basketball game. Last Saturday, he came home after the UH-Fresno St. football game and shot video for the concert of the dancers frolicking around Windward Mall’s Christmas displays long after the mall had closed.

"I pretty much live at the studio. And I don’t mind," he says.

Always a pupil

While so many professional dancers from Hawaii came through Pacleb, he traces his lineage to Ron Bright, the late director and drama teacher who turned a cadre of Windward kids into Broadway performers.

Pacleb first met Bright in 1984, when Bright cast him in a production of "Flower Drum Song." The show traveled to the mainland, and Bright gave Pacleb a role as dance captain for the tour. Over the years, Pacleb worked as choreographer for Bright in 50 musicals.

It was a very long apprenticeship; Pacleb never considered himself Bright’s equal.

"The last show we did together was ‘Hairspray’ in 2014, and during that show, I was still learning from that man," Pacleb says.

From Bright, he learned how to take care of all the details that go into making a performance seem effortless. He learned the crucial balance when working with creative children — how to guide their talent while allowing them the freedom to try their own ideas. He is a staunch believer in Bright’s insistence on professionalism. It is this, Pacleb thinks, that has led to the success of so many 24-VII dancers, both in the entertainment world and in life.

"We stress work ethic and we always talk about how to be a smart dancer," he says. "Like, if your name isn’t called for notes, you still pay attention to what’s being said anyway. You never know when you’ll be asked to step into another role. Always be observant so you know your surroundings. Have respect for everyone. … We have a list that we post about ‘theater etiquette.’ It’s a growing list. Right now, there are 37 things on it."

When the next dance number starts, Pacleb points out how quickly the dancers have changed into new costumes.

"We have rehearsals just to practice changing clothes," he said. "That’s part of being professional, too."

At one point, he calls the dancers on stage to work on the final number of the first act.

"Toby, take it to two minutes to the end," Pacleb says to the technical director. The dancers work on the changes he has made as he watches from the darkness. There is no audience, only him, but the dancers are giving it their all. When they finish, he alone applauds, the sound so small in that big theater.

"All you need is for someone to believe in you," he says. "It’s a powerful thing when someone says, ‘I believe in you.’ It makes you want to try the next step. Then the next step after that."

Reach Lee Cataluna at 529-4315 or lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.