HILO, Hawai'i — It's a piece of Hawaiiana as old-fashioned and outdated as a kitchen radio playing "The Moon of Manakoora."

But the Merrie Monarch Festival hula competition's royal court pageant exists for a reason.

Just ask this year's "queen," Leilani Coreena Kerr of Pana'ewa. In real life, when she's not playing the consort of King David Kalakaua, she is the wife for 16 years of Christopher Kerr, the mother of Micah, Titus, Nalei and Zachary, and a nurse at Kaiser Permanente's Hilo clinic.

Every night of the three-night Merrie Monarch competition, which begins here tomorrow, the court — about a dozen people who dress up nightly as King David Kalakaua, his queen and their attendants — process slowly across the stage and then arrange themselves in dignified silence on a kind of second stage.

This pantomime recalls to spectators the historical figures whom this event honors, people whose love for the hula, and whose efforts to preserve it, were like a pair of defibrillator paddles shocking "the heartbeat of the Hawaiian people" back to life in the 19th century.

As the court makes its way across the stage, the place comes to a halt; all stand in silence, plate lunches hurriedly stuffed under the seats, children shushed, cell phones tucked away. Emcee Kimo Kahoano's distinct voice booms out, identifying each character (the king this year is Bernard Mona Kia of Hilo). And for as many hours as the competition goes on — three, at least — the representatives of the royal court may not eat, talk or in any way be themselves.

It's all pageantry, but with a reason behind it, said Kerr, who will dress up in lace and satin nightly and pray she doesn't stumble or get her train caught it something.

There is, first of all, the honor of being thought of as worthy to represent the ali'i who, even to modern-day Hawaiians, are a revered and special class of people.

An acquaintance with whom Kerr worked on a charity project, U'ilani Peralta, first looked Kerr over, then asked if she'd consider being a member of the Merrie Monarch court.

They want someone with the right look (the Hawaiian-haole Kerr is gorgeous, with an unconsciously regal stance).

Members of the court must be "culturally sensitive." Kerr comes from a musically inclined Wai'anae family and danced briefly with Noe Zuttermeister and the halau of Auntie Maiki Aiu Lake (though she says she is mostly family taught).

And they must be community-minded. Few realize this, but pretty much everything that goes into making the Merrie Monarch happen is done on a volunteer basis. Kerr is a constant volunteer; when her husband's National Guard unit was deployed overseas in 2004, she coordinated efforts of the unit's Family Readiness Group.

"They ask you because of what they see and what they know of you," Kerr said.

Kerr was in a drive-through line of a McDonald's when Peralta called to tell her she was the one.

A born-again Christian, member of New Hope Christian Fellowship and a longtime participant in New Hope's hula ministry (using hula to interpret the messages of Christian scripture), Kerr also characterizes some of the contradictions that make up Hawai'i. Conservative Christian missionaries were the primary reason that hula went underground in the 1800s.

During the Merrie Monarch Festival, she will portray a woman who was married to the man largely credited with rescuing hula from underground status, where it was sent by the influence of early Christian missionaries (who, to be fair, didn't probably understand what hula was about).

But for Kerr, it is no contradiction. "It's all a ministry to me, to represent the best in Hawaiian culture," she said.