Delicate charm meets steely technique: Alina Cojocaru has stolen the hearts of British balletomanes. (Cover Story).

SHE'S 5'2" WITH MELTING BROWN eyes and a cheeky grin, and she holds the London dance world in her thrall. Yet The Royal Ballet's young Alina Cojocaru seems oblivious to all the attention she's getting. "Do you mean it?" she queried, those eyes growing larger by the moment. "I'm so busy doing my job that I don't know what the public is saying. Yes, I read my reviews, as I am curious to see how others view me. But tell me, why is it important to always compare dancers to others? I dance as I feel the ballet, not because I want to look the same as the dancer last night!" If anything, it's the others who wouldn't mind dancing like her.

Cojocaru's meteoric and well-justified rise to fame has been one of those balletic fairy tales in which a new corps member steps in for an injured principal at the last minute and delivers a splendid performance. In Cojocaru's case, it was the role in Frederick Ashton's Symphonic Variations, created by the legendary Margot Fonteyn, that she unexpectedly danced on February 29, 2000. At the interval, the Royal Opera House audience was buzzing, wondering who she was, where she had come from, and how to pronounce her name (it's Ko-ja-CAR-ooh). (In subsequent productions that year, many binoculars focused on the corps, eager to spot her again.)

The following season, as a first soloist, she again saved the day when she took over the principal roles of Clara and Juliet for two more injured ballerinas. Then she was given the opportunity to dance Giselle in her own right and gave such a moving performance that immediately afterward she was promoted to principal. And it's been a series of triumphs since then.

When we talked, Cojocaru was preparing for The Royal Ballet's November premiere of John Cranko's Onegin, not just in the role of Olga but also, much to everyone's surprise and eager anticipation, as Tatiana, the older sister and heroine of Pushkin's famous epic poem (see March review on www.dancemagazine.com). "I never looked at the casting, as I had already been told that I was to dance Olga," she reported. "But then someone said my name was also up for Tatiana and I couldn't believe it. I don't think it will be hard to be Tatiana in the first two acts except perhaps for all the quick costume changes. But in the third, she is married and is old, over 30, I think," and Cojocaru, 20, giggled at the thought of being that ancient. "I am especially looking forward to the final scene. It is so dramatic. Will I be too young and small for the role? No! My first teacher taught me how not to make myself look small onstage--how to dance bigger, how to make myself look and feel heavier," said Cojocaru, a mere will-o'-the-wisp.

Cojocaru looks like a well-scrubbed schoolgirl, swathed in an aura of innocence. But underneath lies a current of conviction. Once the curtain rises, she claims the stage, instinctively transforming herself into the role she is playing.

AS JULIET, COJOCARU MADE UP dialogue for herself, which she rehearsed in a mirror beforehand, to clarify the actions of her character. "Acting must come naturally and move freely with you as you dance," she explained. "So I would speak the words and watch how my body responded. Then I would incorporate those movements into my dancing. Juliet was always my dream to dance."

Cojocaru is innately musical and her whole body breathes the patterns of the music in elegant, fluid movements. She links each episode seamlessly, her arms are held in graceful epaulement, her back is pliant yet strong, her footwork is exacting, and her turns are vertiginous and accurate. With her petite frame and deceptively fragile appearance, she is perfect for the romantic roles of Giselle, Juliet, Clara, and Titania. But she has also proved her strong, secure classical technique as a hot-blooded Kitri, in the plotless work of Symphonic Variations, and in contemporary works such as This House Will Burn, which gave her a chance to be a heartless hooligan with steely technique.

Cojocaru was born in Bucharest, Romania, and at age 7 began taking gymnastics. But when an injury put an end to her dreams, she accompanied a friend to her first ballet class and quickly discovered that it offered possibilities. A few months later, talent scouts from Ukraine came to Bucharest and invited Cojocaru and seven other children to train at the renowned Kiev State Ballet school.

"It was hard for my family to let me go off on my own," Cojocaru recalled. "I was only 9 and it was such a long way away--twenty-seven hours by train. We students knew no one in Kiev and none of us could speak Russian or Ukrainian." But she was a conscientious worker and her eagerness and natural aptitude for dance were quickly spotted. During her seven years as a student, she danced many major roles both with the school and with the company, coached by Alla Viacheslavna Lagoda, Larisa Obovskaya, and Valeri Kovtun.

When she was 16, she won a medal at the 1997 Moscow International Ballet Competition, where, as the youngest competitor, she showed six variations. Among them was an enchanting performance of Gsovsky's Grand Pas Classique, filled with rock-steady balances and confidence, and a solo from Paquita where she sported a stunning orange-sherbet tutu and delivered the pizzazz to go with it. (I know; that was where I first spotted her.) "I only had five days to rehearse all those things," she now admits.

A scholarship awarded by the Prix de Lausanne enabled her to attend The Royal Ballet School in London for six months. But before she had ended the course, Kiev came calling, enticing her with top roles with the company. She was whisked off to Ukraine again, where she picked up her school studies and continued performing. "It was the hardest time in my life," she recalled. "I was doing my written work, preparing for my school concert, and, at the same time, for my debut in Don Quixote." But Cojocaru graduated and then spent a year as principal with the Kiev State Ballet, dancing most major classical roles, including Aurora, Swanilda, Cinderella, and Clara. She was only 17.

THEN CAME DECISION TIME. JUST before the beginning of the next season, Cojocaru, with a contract to stay on in Kiev, was uncertain about the best way to progress. "I was finding that once I had performed a role, I was being told the next time that I only had to polish it. But at The Royal Ballet, I watched Sylvie Guillem preparing a role. She showed that no matter how often you have performed that role, you just keep on learning." I also knew I wanted to dance more than just classical ballets. So when I was home for the holidays, I called The Royal Ballet. I was offered a place in the corps, and I had to decide. Where would I learn most? As a principal in Kiev or as a corps member in London?"

Cojocaru decided to come to England. Being a corps member was difficult at first. Holding on to her individuality while also dancing as one of many in a long line was challenging. "However, I now think it was good--it's all about teamwork and when you get your lines straight, everyone notices and you feel good.... I realize how important it is to feel the support and participation of the corps, of everyone, in my own performances."

When she made her debut as Juliet, the wings were filled with colleagues eager to cheer her on, though, sadly, neither her parents nor her sister could come on such short notice. Her father was able to see her debut in Giselle, however--"the first time he had seen me dancing onstage"--and her mother saw Onegin.

Cojocaru has made close friends in London with whom she goes to restaurants and the cinema--she's a real movie buff. She also spends much time listening to music and reading. She's finished all the Harry Potters and "loves them."

I mentioned to her that, at the end of her heartrending debut as Giselle, there was barely a dry eye in the audience. "Is that true?" she questioned, wide-eyed. "Oh, I do wish I could have seen the performance!"

Margaret Willis is a U.K.-based Dance Magazine contributor who lived and studied dance in the former Soviet Union for five years.