"Alicia Alonso has gone and left an enormous void, but also an
unbeatable legacy," President Miguel Diaz-Canel said in a post
on Twitter. "She positioned Cuba at the altar of the best of
dance worldwide. Thank you Alicia for your immortal work."
One of the greatest 20th century ballerinas, Alonso used her
star power to make a sometimes elitist art form popular on her
Caribbean island, forging the world's largest ballet school with
a unique bravura style.
Alonso immediately identified herself with the 1959 revolution
and, with her dance partner of many years, the Russian Igor
Youskevich who died in 1994, performed for the bearded
guerrillas of Fidel Castro's rebel army after they took power in
Havana. She remained closely associated with the Communist
government until the end.
So revered is Alonso in Cuba - where a perfume carries her name
and the huge Coppelia ice cream parlor is named after one of her
signature roles - that she carried the rare title of prima
ballerina assoluta, reserved for only the most exceptional of
dancers.
"As the daughter of a small Caribbean island, Alonso confronted
all the barriers, those who said ballet was an art of developed
countries, that the Latino physique and temperament could not
adjust to the needs of classical dance," Cuban-born Carlos
Acosta, former principal guest artist of the Royal Ballet, said
in a statement on Thursday.
"Alicia Alonso destroyed all these prejudices when she made her
entrance on the stage."
'HIGHEST LEVELS OF EXCELLENCE'
Alonso's breakout role was "Giselle" in New York on Nov. 2,
1943, when she replaced British dancer Alicia Markova, who fell
ill, in the newly formed company that would become the American
Ballet Theatre (ABT).
For her debut in the ethereal 1841 French Romantic role, Alonso
had learned the steps with her hands while recovering from eye
surgery.
"Her imprint on ABT as one of the charter members of Ballet
Theatre is immeasurable," said Kevin McKenzie, artistic director
of the New York-based company, in a statement on Thursday.
"Alicia's grace, intelligence and courage will surely leave a
lasting impact on our art form."
Petite with an angular face, Alonso danced until her 70s despite
having trouble walking, and continued to direct her company with
the help of trusted artists who served as her eyes.
"She has a very vivid imagination which allows her to see things
in her mind as they would appear on stage," Suki John, an
American scholar on Cuban dance whom Alonso had invited to
choreograph for the National Ballet of Cuba, told Reuters in a
July 2015 interview. "She developed this visual acuity as a
young dancer when she had one of her first operations on her
eyes."
Alonso for years did not name a successor because, she said, "I
will live until I'm 200," according to several of her dancers
and collaborators. Critics accused her of holding onto power for
too long, even as her health faltered.
Dancer Viengsay Valdés, who was named deputy artistic director
in January, is widely expected to take over the company.
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Together with her first husband Fernando Alonso and his brother
Alberto, the ballerina forged a national ballet style that Castro
used to showcase Cuban culture.
With Alonso's prodigious speed, turning ability and attention to
stylistic detail as a benchmark, the Cuban school - which has about
3,000 students - fused the best from the Russians, French, Italians,
British and Americans with Latino flair and Afro-Cuban sensuality.
"We Cubans were born to dance as a people, thanks to the mix of
races, the Spanish and the African, both lovers of dance," Alonso
told Reuters in 2004. "Cuban dancers immediately stand out with
their expressive way of performing the great classics or the
moderns."
POLISHING IN ISOLATION
According to Alonso's own account in a 1981 biography, Castro asked
her how much money she needed to organize the National Ballet.
"I said $100,000," she recalled.
"We will give you $200,000," he replied.
Alonso choreographed and polished a small repertoire of classic
masterpieces in isolation from the rest of the world, creating a
style for her company that some critics have called old-fashioned
but others have commended as preserving elements neglected outside
Cuba.
"Her legacy is a devotion to the classical perfection of ballet,"
Jane Hermann, U.S. agent for the National Ballet of Cuba since 1978,
said in a phone interview on Thursday.
Many Cuban dancers who defected on international tours during the
Cold War or left afterward earned Alonso's disdain, although some
male stars had a freer license to work abroad.
Born on Dec. 21, 1921, Alonso first appeared on stage in Havana in
1931. She married fellow student Fernando at the age of 16 and they
soon moved to New York, joining Ballet Caravan, the precursor of New
York City Ballet.
By the late 1940s she had performed starring roles, particularly
Giselle, at the old Metropolitan Opera House in New York and
London's Covent Garden. In 1946, Mademoiselle magazine listed her as
one of the 10 most distinguished women in the world.
Her vision, which started to deteriorate at age 19, became so bad
that she had trouble seeing her fellow dancers and relied on stage
lights to guide her. A series of operations in the early 1970s
improved her vision.
In 1948, the Alonsos founded the Alicia Alonso Ballet Company in
Havana, but she continued to dance for a while with the American
Ballet Theatre. Her ballet company folded in 1956 through lack of
funds. The National Ballet was formed after the revolution.
Fernando and Alicia Alonso had one daughter, Laura Alonso, herself
an accomplished dancer, who was born in 1938.
(Reporting by Richard Chang in New York and Sarah Marsh in Havana;
Additional reporting by Daniel Trotta in New York; Editing by
Frances Kerry, Bernadette Baum, Cynthia Osterman and Daniel Wallis)
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