You’re sitting in a dark theater. Suddenly, a thick wall of synthetic fog rolls across the stage, lit from the sides so it looks like a solid, glowing cloud. Then, out of nowhere, dancers start appearing and disappearing. They don't just walk on; they materialize. One second the stage is empty, the next, someone is mid-leap, soaring through the haze. This is the world of In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp created back in 1986, and honestly, it’s still one of the most exhausting things to watch—in the best way possible.
It’s a marathon.
Tharp didn't want a polite ballet. She wanted a "burn." When people talk about this piece, they usually mention the "Stompers" and the "Bomb Squad." The dancers are wearing these iconic, bright red sneakers and striped pajamas designed by Norma Kamali. It looks like a fever dream of the 80s, but it feels like a glimpse into a high-performance engine. It's fast. It's loud. It’s relentless.
Most dance pieces have a "breather" section. You know, a slow solo where everyone can catch their breath? Not here. Tharp took Philip Glass’s driving, repetitive score and matched it beat-for-beat with movement that looks like it should be physically impossible for the human heart to sustain.
The Fog, The Shoes, and the Philip Glass Pulse
The first thing you have to understand about In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp choreographed is the atmosphere. Jennifer Tipton, the lighting genius, used a very specific "box" of light and heavy fog to create an illusion of infinite space. Dancers don't use the wings like they do in Swan Lake. They literally step out of the mist and retreat back into it. It makes the dancers look like ghosts or athletes from another dimension.
Then there are the shoes.
Ballet is usually about the satin point shoe or the soft leather slipper. Tharp threw that out. Half the cast is in sneakers. Red ones. They stomp. They slide. They use the floor like basketball players. But then, Tharp mixes in dancers on pointe. It’s a collision of worlds. You have the elegance of classical ballet slamming into the grit of modern "street" movement. It shouldn't work, but because Philip Glass’s music is so rhythmic and insistent, it all fuses together into this singular, pulsing energy.
Glass’s score is divided into nine movements. It starts with a simple, haunting synthesizer and builds into a full orchestral roar. If you’ve ever listened to Philip Glass, you know it’s all about layers. Tharp does the same with the bodies. She starts with two women—the "Stompers"—and slowly adds layers of dancers until the stage is a chaotic, organized mess of red and black stripes.
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Why Dancers Actually Fear This Piece
I’ve talked to people who have danced this. They’re terrified of it.
Seriously.
The stamina required for In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp is legendary in the dance world. It’s 40 minutes of non-stop, high-velocity movement. By the time they reach the final "Creative Outburst" section, the dancers are usually drenched. You can see the steam rising off their skin in the stage lights. Tharp is famous for her "crossover" style, blending ballet, jazz, and even boxing moves. She once famously said she wanted to see what happened when you pushed a body past the point of fatigue.
She found out.
The dancers reach a state of "flow" because they don't have time to think. If you think about the next step in this piece, you're already behind. You have to just be the movement. It’s visceral. It’s why audiences often end up standing and cheering before the curtain even drops. You aren't just watching a story; you're watching a feat of human endurance.
The Breakdown of the "Teams"
Tharp organized the cast into specific groups, each with their own "vibe":
- The Stompers: These are the backbone. They wear the sneakers. Their movement is heavy, grounded, and cool. They own the floor.
- The Bomb Squad: Usually a trio that moves with explosive, dangerous speed. They are the ones who usually make the audience gasp because they seem to ignore the laws of physics.
- The Ballet Couples: They bring the verticality. Even though they’re surrounded by sneakers and stripes, they maintain that crisp, elevated ballet technique that Tharp loves to subvert.
It’s a melting pot. Tharp was a pioneer in this. Before her, you were either a "ballet dancer" or a "modern dancer." She said, "Why not both?" She proved that a dancer could do a triple pirouette and then immediately drop into a slouchy, jazzy walk without losing their dignity.
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The Cultural Impact of 1986
When In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp premiered, the dance world was in a weird spot. Classical ballet was feeling a bit dusty, and modern dance was often seen as too "serious" or intellectual. Tharp bridged the gap. She made dance look like a sport, but with the soul of an artist.
Norma Kamali’s costumes were a huge part of this. Those red sneakers became iconic. They represented a shift in the culture—the rise of aerobics, the obsession with the "body beautiful," and the high-octane energy of the 1980s. But unlike a lot of 80s art, this piece hasn't aged. If you see American Ballet Theatre or the Royal Ballet perform it today, it still feels fresh. It doesn't feel like a museum piece.
It feels like a riot.
One of the most interesting things about the piece is the title. "In the Upper Room" refers to the Biblical location of the Last Supper, but Tharp has always been a bit cryptic about how literal that is. Most critics agree it's more about a state of mind—a higher level of consciousness that you only reach through extreme physical effort. It’s a spiritual experience through sweat.
How to Actually Watch the Performance
If you’re going to watch a video or catch a live performance of In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp, don't try to follow a plot. There isn't one. Don't look for a "lead" dancer either.
Instead, watch the patterns.
Notice how the dancers enter from the back "wall" of fog. Notice how the lighting changes from a cool, eerie blue to a fiery, aggressive red as the intensity builds. Tharp uses the stage like a chessboard, but the pieces are moving at 100 miles per hour. Look at the feet. The contrast between the thud of the sneakers and the silence of the pointe shoes is where the magic happens.
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It's also worth paying attention to the "slumping." Tharp’s signature style involves a lot of loose limbs and shrugged shoulders. It looks casual, but it’s incredibly difficult to do while staying on the beat of Glass’s metronomic music. It’s that tension between being "relaxed" and being "precise" that makes it so captivating.
Common Misconceptions About Tharp's Work
A lot of people think Tharp is just "making it up" because it looks so loose.
That couldn't be further from the truth.
Tharp is a mathematician of movement. Every finger flick, every head tilt in In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp is scripted. She’s notorious for being a perfectionist. Dancers often spend months just learning how to walk the "Tharp way." It’s a specific vocabulary. If you’re even a millisecond off the Philip Glass score, the whole thing falls apart like a house of cards.
Another misconception is that it’s an "ensemble" piece where everyone is equal. While it looks like a group effort, the demands on individual dancers are astronomical. There is no hiding in the back. Because of the fog and the lighting, every dancer is soloed out at some point. You’re either in the light or you’re in the mist. There is no middle ground.
Actionable Insights for Dance Lovers and Creators
Whether you are a dancer, a choreographer, or just someone who loves the arts, there are real lessons to be learned from this masterpiece. Tharp didn't just "create a dance"; she built a system.
- Embrace the Hybrid: Don't be afraid to mix high art and low art. Tharp combined sneakers and tutus. She mixed Bach and The Beach Boys (in other works). The "magic" usually happens at the intersection of two things that aren't supposed to go together.
- Use Limitations as Tools: The fog in In the Upper Room wasn't just for atmosphere. It was a structural tool that allowed dancers to enter and exit without the traditional stage wings. It changed the geometry of the performance.
- Build Stamina Through Complexity: If you’re a creator, notice how Tharp builds energy. She doesn't start at 10. She starts at a 2 and slowly adds layers of sound and movement until the audience feels like they can't breathe. It’s about the "crescendo."
- Check Out the Soundtrack: Even if you aren't a dance fan, listen to the Philip Glass score for In the Upper Room. It’s a masterclass in minimalist composition that feels anything but minimal. It's great for focus, running, or just understanding how rhythm can drive emotion.
- Look for Local Revivals: Big companies like ABT (American Ballet Theatre) and the Birmingham Royal Ballet frequently bring this piece back. If it's on a program near you, go. No video can capture the actual vibration of the stage when the Stompers are in full gear.
In the Upper Room Twyla Tharp remains a benchmark for what dance can be when it stops trying to be "pretty" and starts trying to be "powerful." It's a reminder that the human body is a machine, a ghost, and an athlete all at once. If you ever feel like your own creative work or workout routine is getting stagnant, just watch the final five minutes of this piece. It’s the ultimate shot of adrenaline.