When the choreographer George Balanchine created dances, he generally confined himself to matters of pure form: These steps go this way, with this rhythm, these dynamics. He allowed dancers and audiences to work out meanings, if any, for themselves.

With one ballet alone Balanchine (1904-83) departed from this policy: “Apollo” (1928), and in particular its title role. This masterpiece, the oldest that Balanchine kept in repertory, returns to open New York City Ballet’s winter season on Jan. 22, with new Apollos. The role is a matchless adventure for any performer; but when Balanchine himself coached it, he moved and spoke as with no other role.

Three leading interpreters — Jacques d’Amboise (who first danced the role for Balanchine in 1957), Edward Villella, (1960s), Ib Andersen (1980) — attended an “Apollo” seminar last summer at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. Each had created roles in Balanchine premieres and had inherited other lead roles — but all recalled that, for Apollo, Balanchine brought a new kind of drama to his tuition. Though he never said so, he prompted others to believe that this was his most autobiographical role: a portrait of the artist as a young god.

As with other roles, Balanchine demonstrated more than he spoke; and he moved with a skill every Apollo found brilliant. Mr. Villella had been taught the role by another ballet master; when he showed Balanchine what he had learned, Balanchine responded tartly “No poetry!” And part of the revelation that followed was the thrilling way that Balanchine — dressed that day in a suit — showed the role’s inner life. But all these Apollos also remember that the choreographer used words to open up “Apollo” as drama.