The students show no pity for the dancer, only admiration - even awe. "She is impressive," says the 19-year-old Sanchez. "When I see her, I feel nervous." It's been six decades since Alonso formed the internationally acclaimed National Ballet of Cuba, creating a company that fused Russian and Western technique with the dance legend's own classical stylings. Now she remains grateful for a life that produced exquisite interpretations of Giselle and Carmen, and one of the most brilliant performances ever of "Swan Lake," performed with partner Igor Youskevitch when both danced with American Ballet Theatre. She was at the time partly blind, guided on stage by her partner's perfect placement and by using the lights. "Life is not unjust with anyone," she says in an interview with The Associated Press. "One is unjust with life because it always increasing demands you to do what you really can do."
Alonso, her dancer's body clothed in black skirt and jacket, with a tan scarf draped over her shoulders and another wrapped around her head, had her lipstick retouched and the string of pearls around her neck arranged before beginning the interview. "Am I all right?" she asked her husband, Pedro Mendez.
Born in Havana on Dec. 21, 1920, Alicia Ernestina de la Caridad del Cobre Martinez Hoya would love to live many more years.
"I think that science has advanced so much we do not have to put a limit at 200 years. Let's see what science comes up with," she says. "Are you tired of living? I'm not."
Alonso was around 9 when she began studying ballet at Sociedad Pro-Arte Musical in Havana. One of her first performances was in Tchaikovsky's "Sleeping Beauty." She married another ballet student, Fernando Alonso, when she was 15 and they moved to New York City, where she danced with Ballet Caravan, now the New York City Ballet. In 1940, she joined the Ballet Theatre of New York, which became American Ballet Theatre.
"The American public has always been wonderful with me," Alonso says. "We grew up together. Then American ballet had not been developed. We were the first ones." The road to becoming prima ballerina assoluta opened wider in 1943, when she went on for Alicia Markova, one of the 20th century's greatest dancers, in a production of "Giselle" directed by Anton Dolin at the New York's Metropolitan Opera House. Alonso had just returned to ballet after a two-year absence during which she underwent three operations. "While I was ill, I continued dancing in my head," says Alonso, who did not provide details about her eye ailment. When Dolin asked his dancers who wanted to replace Markova, Alonso was the only one to step up. The role brought her fame as a dancer willing to break with convention. "Then, they thought a Caribbean native could only do the rumba," Alonso says. "I broke with that to become the first ballerina of classical ballet in Cuba." Alonso worked with great choreographers such as Michel Fokine and Anthony Tudor, and danced with the Russian icon Rudolf Nureyev, among others. She later choreographed some of her own works.Among her most special moments as a performer was in Buenos Aires, when she had 49 curtain calls. "I still find it extraordinary that someone counted!" she jokes. The applause "sounded like a huge wave that pushed me back. ... The emotion left me breathless." Although she had offers from the United States and elsewhere, she eventually returned home to Cuba, where there was no professional ballet company. "I realized one day that I had to stay here," Alonso recalls. She and Fernando Alonso opened a ballet company in 1948, along with the Cuban School of Ballet. She kept her last name after their divorce. Due to money problems, the ballet company was forced to close in 1956 during the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista. But shortly after the Cuban Revolution, Alonso got a visit from Fidel Castro, a man she described as "a great personality." With Castro's support, the company was reopened, Cuban ballet was reborn and continues to receive support from the communist-run government. When her students have defected to dance in other countries, Alonso has bemoaned the desertions, emphasizing the free training they received. "It is painful. They are very young people who have not yet been formed," Alonso told reporters after five dancers stayed behind during a U.S. tour in 2003. "They have received an education of more than nine years, being taught without cost." Two of the dancers, Cervilio Amador and Adiarys Almeida, joined the Cincinnati Ballet as soloists. In 2005, one of the Cuban ballet's stars, Rolando Sarabia defected. He said at the time that his decision was based on artistic reasons: He wanted to become famous, just as Alonso had by dancing in the United States.
