In Michael Sun’s reformer Pilates class, there’s no human instructor, yet the prices are significantly lower than what you’d find in a typical studio. Is this trade-off truly worth it?
On a weekday afternoon, I find myself in a Pilates studio on Sydney’s north shore, limbs awkwardly positioned, and feeling like I’m on the brink of collapse. A cheerfully upbeat voice emanates from a screen in front of the room: “You got this!” My only response is a strained grunt.
For those living within a reasonable distance of a Lululemon, reformer Pilates might not be new. This exercise involves agile individuals in coordinated outfits using machines that resemble a cross between a medieval torture device and a contemporary workout apparatus, engaging in a series of intense positions involving springs and straps for nearly an hour.
But this particular studio, called Pronto, sets itself apart. With 15 locations across Australia, including three new ones in Sydney, it boasts a unique teacher-less format. Instead of real-time instruction, members participate in 45-minute sessions featuring pre-recorded demonstrations by a digital instructor displayed on screens throughout the space. There are eight reformer machines, and notably, there are no mirrors—unlike typical studios.
This is the only place I’ve encountered that forgoes live instructors altogether. While it sacrifices personal attention, it makes up for it in what it calls a futuristic exercise experience, all at a significantly reduced price point. Classes here cost between $5 and $11, compared to the $15 to $35 range at studios with human-led sessions. So, is the trade-off worth it?
As I step onto the reformer, the atmosphere shifts instantly from calm background music to upbeat tropical house beats. I feel as if I’ve landed in a vintage YouTube video or an episode of “Love Island.” Spoiler alert: I’m really just in agony after what feels like an eternity of stomach crunches—and now I’m instructed to pulse.
The virtual instructor’s voice is soothing, reminiscent of a kind preschool teacher or a charismatic cult leader. It could be hypnotic under different circumstances, but right now, it’s merely pushing me through a workout, as I battle my way to toned calves. Suddenly, I find myself lying back, legs screaming as I press my body in and out against the machine.
I’m acutely aware that my form is likely off. In a regular session, I would be dramatically panting and silently pleading for an instructor to adjust my position. But here, I’m solely accountable for myself. “Can you lift your heels any higher?” the digital voice chirps enthusiastically. Inside, I want to scream, “No!!!” But the reply comes swiftly: “That looks great!” Somehow, receiving a compliment while risking injury feels like a trade-off I’m willing to accept.
Thirty minutes in, and the relentless positivity from the digital instructor begins to wear me down. I find myself yielding to the cheerful exhortations. “Get closer to your knees!” Yes, of course. “Hold for four!” Absolutely, your majesty. “You got this!” Thank you, my ruler.
As I extend my arms in a shoulder set, my mind wanders to the various Pilates instructors who have shaped my journey: the one whose playlists featured only Phoebe Bridgers remixes; the instructor who insisted on using the word “yummy” to describe our workouts; and the one I awkwardly encountered at a party, both of us failing to recognize each other amidst our shared confusion.
But soon, these thoughts fade, leaving just the voice of the virtual instructor resonating in my mind. I originally thought I could sneak in breaks without supervision, but—just like a school standardized test—the digital voice looms as the ultimate authority. I suddenly feel an overwhelming desire to impress this anonymous screen.
As the class wraps up, it concludes as it began—with a stretch. I bend deeper than I thought possible, feeling like a broken man. Yet, I’m also aware that I’m both budget-conscious and slightly masochistic. By the time I arrive home, I find myself signing up for another session.
Michael Sun was a guest of Pronto.
