Alonso is a delightfully young and a very Latin Giselle, quick, clear, direct in her relation to her lover. She is passionate rather than sensuous. She is brilliant in allegro, not so convincing in sustained grace. Her plie is not yet a soft and subtly modulated one and this weakens her soaring phrases. She has little patience for those slow-motion, vaporous effects that we Northerners find so touching. But there is no fake about her, no staginess. Her points, her young high extensions, her clean line, her lightness in speed, her quick balance are of star quality.

Her first act was the more distinguished of the two in its dramatic interpretation. She is no tubercular ballerina-peasant but a spirited girl who stabs herself. The dance-solo was hidden from me by late-comers, but loudly applauded. The confrontation scene and the made scene were convincing, simple and large in their miming. In the second act the first whirls were thrilling, and the famous passage of lifts with the following solo of echappees and spins stopped the show by its cumulative bold, clear speed. If there was little that was spectral in the second act, there was nothing that was not vividly young and straightforward.

... what Balanchine did for her in Theme and Variation was not merely to use everything she does best as a dancer -- her sharp attacks, her secure feats of point-balance, for example -- but to use them in a style that made her glamorous and radiant. After seeing an early rehearsal of her pas de deux with Igor Youskevitch, Edwin Denby had written me that Balanchine had invented another new character, but what he also invented was a new personality for Alonso.

Alonso, always a splendid technician, seemed better than her best in this ballet, as if Balanchine had invented a new glamorous and radiant personality. (Italics mine.)

From a dramatic standpoint which is so important in this quaint old piece, she plays with such simplicity and such honestry that she is completely convincing. Even the inherently incredible mad scene at the end of the first act apparently holds no terrors for her, because she approaches it so unaffectedly...

[Apollo] is a prime example of the late Diaghileff era of ballet, when novelty, ingenuity and deliberate perversity ranked especially high. It is now seventeen years old and looks every day of it, for, truth to tell, we have come a long mile since those naively sophisticated days. Its style is “moderne,” its technique appallingly difficult and its choreography frighteningly clever.

Last night’s performance was an especially brilliant one, especially by Alicia Alonso, who suspensions and general precision were little short of fabulous. Nora Kaye and Barbara Fallis also danced beautifully in the other major feminine roles.

Andre Eglevsky in the demanding title role came off with honors though in appearance he suggested Apollo perhaps less than Hepahaistos.