It was weird. Honestly, it was just really, really weird for a show that spent thirteen years making us laugh at the absolute worst people on the planet. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia isn't exactly known for its "prestige TV" moments or high-art aspirations. Usually, if Mac is doing something physical, it involves a "project badass" tape, some truly pathetic karate sounds, or an accidental self-injury. Then came "Mac Finds His Pride."
The It’s Always Sunny Mac dance changed the way people looked at Rob McElhenney. It changed the way fans looked at the show. And for a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community, it changed how they felt seen by a sitcom that usually prides itself on being offensive to everyone.
The Shock of the "Mac Finds His Pride" Performance
You have to remember where Mac started. Ronald "Mac" McDonald spent over a decade as a closeted, hyper-masculine, deeply insecure guy who used his misinterpreted version of Catholicism to judge everyone else. When he finally came out in Season 12, it was played for a mix of laughs and genuine character growth. But Season 13's finale was different.
The sequence is five minutes of contemporary dance set to "Varúð" by Sigur Rós. No jokes. No cutaways to Frank Reynolds making a face (well, not until the very end). Just Mac and a professional ballerina, Kylie Shea, in a rain-soaked prison set.
Most sitcoms would have undercut the moment. They would have had Mac trip, or had Charlie scream something from the sidelines to break the tension. But they didn't. They let it sit. It was a massive risk for a show that lives and dies by its cynicism.
How Rob McElhenney Actually Pulled This Off
Rob didn't just wake up and decide to be a dancer. He’s been vocal about the fact that he isn't a trained performer in that sense. He spent months—literal months—conditioning his body. This wasn't just about getting the "Mac" six-pack again; it was about flexibility and technical precision.
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He worked with choreographers Leo Moctezuma and Alison Faulk. If those names sound familiar, it's because they’ve worked with P!nk and on the Magic Mike live shows. They didn't go easy on him. The choreography was meant to represent the internal struggle of Mac’s character: the "storm" of his identity and the "light" of his truth.
It’s physically grueling work. You can see the strain. In interviews, McElhenney mentioned he wanted the dance to feel like a conversation with God, or at least his version of a higher power that he felt was rejecting him.
Why the It’s Always Sunny Mac Dance Matters for the Fans
The reaction was immediate. Social media exploded. People who had watched the show for years were crying in their living rooms. Why? Because the It’s Always Sunny Mac dance wasn't just a stunt. It was a payoff for a character arc that had been brewing since the pilot.
Mac's father, Luther, is a terrifying, stoic convict. The entire point of the dance was for Mac to "tell" his father he was gay without using words, because words had always failed them. When Luther walks out halfway through the performance, it’s devastating.
But then there's Frank.
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Danny DeVito’s character, Frank Reynolds, spent the whole episode complaining that he "didn't get" being gay. He was looking for a simple explanation. By the end of the dance, as the rain stops and the lights fade, Frank is weeping. He whispers, "I get it." That’s the moment the audience felt. If the most depraved, gross, and uncaring man in Philadelphia could "get it," then there was hope for everyone else.
The Choreography of Internal Conflict
Let's break down the movements because they weren't random. Every pull and push between Mac and Kylie Shea represented a specific emotional beat.
- The Struggle: The beginning is frantic. Mac is being pulled back, trying to escape the "woman" who represents the heteronormative expectations placed on him.
- The Submission: There are moments where he collapses. He’s exhausted by the act.
- The Elevation: When Kylie Shea lifts him, or he lifts her in a way that feels supportive rather than romantic, it’s about finding balance.
- The Grace: The final pose is one of total vulnerability.
Critics from outlets like Vox and The New York Times praised the sequence for its sincerity. It’s rare to see a show pivot from "poop jokes" to "high-concept interpretive dance" without losing its identity, but Sunny managed it by grounding the dance in Mac's desperation for approval.
The Production Behind the Rain
Filming that sequence was a nightmare. They used a massive water rig to simulate a localized storm inside a prison set. Lighting water is incredibly difficult; if you do it wrong, it just looks like gray static. The cinematography had to be crisp enough to show the muscle definition and the facial expressions, but moody enough to keep the "prison" atmosphere.
They did countless takes. McElhenney was freezing. Shea was performing at an elite level while soaked to the bone. They didn't use a stunt double. That’s really Rob spinning, lifting, and sliding across the floor.
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It’s also worth noting the music choice. Sigur Rós is the "prestige" band for emotional climaxes. Using "Varúð" was a signal to the audience: Pay attention, this isn't a gag. The song builds to a chaotic, screaming crescendo before dropping into a hauntingly quiet piano melody. It mirrors Mac’s own journey perfectly.
Is It Still Always Sunny?
Some fans hated it. Let's be real. There’s a segment of the audience that watches the show for the "Group of Idiots" dynamic and felt this was too "woke" or too serious. They felt it broke the "no hugging, no learning" rule that many sitcoms (like Seinfeld) live by.
But the beauty of the It’s Always Sunny Mac dance is that the show went right back to being garbage the next season. It didn't turn into a Hallmark movie. The characters didn't suddenly become good people. Mac is still an annoying, needy, often toxic person. He’s just an annoying, needy, toxic person who is finally out of the closet.
The dance was a moment of grace in an otherwise disgusting world. That contrast is what makes it high art. If the show were always serious, the dance wouldn't matter. Because the show is usually a dumpster fire, the dance feels like a miracle.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Creators
If you're looking back at this episode or trying to understand why it’s a benchmark for modern television, keep these points in mind:
- Subverting Expectations: The best way to make an impact is to do the one thing your audience thinks you’d never do. Sunny is a comedy; doing a five-minute silent drama was the ultimate subversion.
- Physical Storytelling: You don't always need dialogue. McElhenney communicated more about Mac's soul in those five minutes than he did in the previous five seasons of dialogue.
- Commitment to the Bit: If you’re going to do something earnest, go 100%. If they had made the dance "okayish," it would have been cringey. Because it was professional-grade, it was moving.
- Research the Music: Go listen to the lyrics of "Varúð" (even though they are in Icelandic/Hopelandic). The emotional swell of the track is designed to evoke a sense of "warning" and "protection," which fits the father-son dynamic perfectly.
The legacy of the dance continues to influence how "crude" comedies handle sensitive topics. It proved that you can be a clown and an artist at the same time. Mac might still be a "jabroni" most of the time, but for those five minutes, he was something else entirely.
For anyone wanting to revisit the moment, it’s in Season 13, Episode 10. Watch it without distractions. Watch the behind-the-scenes footage of Rob’s training. It makes the final product even more impressive when you see the bruises and the failed lifts that happened during rehearsals. It was a grueling process for a beautiful result.