An old man, Shawn Mahoney, who hobbles around on a cane, until throwing it offstage, and performs a showy, spinning, cutesy, tour de force. In the background are dance genres galore being essayed to entertaning effect. Not being familiar with the original Bowie album, I can't judge their contribution, but this is vintage Philip Glass. Driving, powerful, and epic, it provides Tharp with all the setting necessary in which to tell her tale. Bright wing-lights turn the empty stage into a stark, barren landscape, filled with paranoia, fear and loathing.
Women entice the males and are thrown around like rag dolls.
The de rigeur standing ovation was genuinely enthusiastic. After several curtain calls, Twyla joined her sweat-drenched brood in an exchange of applause and a final bow.