He chose storytelling. And most importantly, he chose people.
By Miriah Stacy
From the very first moment, Bad Bunny made it clear that his Super Bowl performance was not going to be a standard halftime spectacle. This was not a rush into hits or an explosion of fireworks for the sake of scale. Instead, he chose intention. He chose storytelling. And most importantly, he chose people.
The performance opens with Bad Bunny walking through fields—imagery that immediately evokes land, labor, and home. He holds a football, a simple but powerful bridge between the global American spectacle of the Super Bowl and the personal, grounded world he is about to invite viewers into. This opening does not feel abstract; it feels lived in. It feels like a return to origin. Before the stadium, before the lights, before the noise, there is the land.
As he moves through the set, it becomes clear that this is not merely a stage—it is a neighborhood. A hometown rendered in motion. He passes fruit stands and snack vendors, small details that mirror everyday community life. These are the kinds of scenes you recognize instantly, even if you are not from Puerto Rico. Every culture has them: the local stand, the familiar faces, the rhythms of daily survival and care. These moments are not romanticized; they are respected.
Then come the elders. Older men seated at a table, present but not performative. Their inclusion is subtle and deeply meaningful. Across cultures, elders represent continuity, memory, and quiet authority. You do not explain them—you acknowledge them. Their presence signals that this performance understands where culture is held and how it is passed down.
quiet acknowledgment of performance legacy, signaling that he understands the magnitude of the stage he occupied
Just as naturally, we see Latina baddies doing nails. And the word baddies matters here. This is not a throwaway image. Nail salons and beauty salons are communal spaces—places where women gather, talk, affirm themselves, and prepare for the world. Featuring these women early in the performance centers Latina femininity as confident, joyful, and culturally essential. It is glamour without apology and pride without explanation.
As Bad Bunny continues moving, he weaves beneath what is clearly a professional boxing match. The distinction matters. This is not street chaos or random violence—it is structured, choreographed, and disciplined. Boxing carries deep cultural significance across many communities, symbolizing endurance, respect for craft, and controlled struggle. He does not interrupt the match or dramatize it. He simply moves through it, acknowledging that discipline and conflict exist alongside beauty, joy, and routine. The moment feels honest, grounded, and familiar—another layer of real life folded into the neighborhood portrait.
Visually, Bad Bunny himself is styled in white—clean, understated, intentional. The look is confident without being flashy, allowing the symbolism and movement to speak louder than spectacle. The gloves subtly evoke Michael Jackson, not as imitation, but as homage. It is a quiet acknowledgment of performance legacy, signaling that he understands the magnitude of the stage he occupies.
another layer of real life folded into the neighborhood portrait
When the dancers fully enter, the performance expands in scale without losing clarity. Men and women flood the stage—so many they’re almost impossible to count. At first glance, the choreography resembles a flash mob, but the precision quickly makes it clear this is deeply rehearsed and intentional. Everyone moves in sync, yet no one disappears.
The costume design reinforces that balance. The dancers share a unified color palette, but no two outfits are the same. Unity without uniformity. Belonging without erasure. Individuality exists within the collective, mirroring the performance’s broader message.
A pivotal moment arrives when a woman in baby blue steps forward, wearing a red rose. She begins salsa dancing with Bad Bunny, creating an intimate duet within the larger moving crowd. Even as their moment unfolds, the surrounding dancers never stop moving. Salsa here functions as cultural language—romance, connection, flirtation, tradition—spoken through the body rather than words.
Then comes one of the most sophisticated choices of the night: a scene change without a set change. The choreography shifts evoking the feeling of a ballroom or restaurant. The color palette transition from earthy browns and greens to white earth tones only, altering the emotional temperature of the performance. It feels like entering a new space without ever leaving the stage. This is choreography as world-building.
This is choreography as world-building.
Unity without uniformity. Belonging without erasure.
Bad Bunny passes a jeweler who hands him a ring. His reaction is genuine confusion. The moment is not explained, not highlighted, not paused for emphasis. The ring is simply carried forward. This restraint creates anticipation. It signals that the performance trusts the audience to remember, to wait, to stay present.
And then the meaning lands.
A real proposal unfolds. A beautiful chica is proposed to—This is not metaphor alone. A real wedding moment takes place on one of the biggest stages in the world. Love becomes part of the neighborhood narrative. The crowd bears witness. The performance honors everyday milestones as worthy of global visibility.
A brief glimpse of Cardi B dancing in the crowd reinforces that culture is alive and celebratory. The show does not freeze in romance—it flows forward.
In the final moments, the camera pulls all the way back. A full zoom out reveals dancers fully in their element. The choreography blends NFL cheerleader-style precision with unmistakable ethnic rhythm and body language. Athletic, confident, joyful. Familiar enough for the Super Bowl audience, rooted enough to remain authentic. The performance closes not with one person centered, but with community in motion.
community in motion
