What play wouldn't be improved by a dose of David Bowie? He certainly does more good than harm to Dance Xanax Dance, a Planet Ant original comedy written and directed by Lauren Bickers. The production is light on story but heavy on design, all influenced by the Glam One himself, which makes for an outrageous, glittery, dancing extravaganza.

The already eclectic Planet Ant space is made over exquisitely by designer Barton Bund in outrageous abstract style, down to a red-patterned floor that looks like a flash of light viewed through closed eyelids. Hillary Bard's intense low lighting gives the entire set the look of an amazingly terrible music video, a perfect fit for Jill Dion's intense (and technically skilled), geek-serious choreography. Costumes by Vince Kelley are a hot, shimmering, eyelinered mess of the highest order. Setting the scene and providing awkward transitions are assembled fever-dream videos parodying various celebrity-obsessed television programs; sound and video designer Dyan Bailey's cheeky blend of actual TV footage with original scenes establishes the back story of the exceptionally named Olivia Sasha Now (Genevieve Jona), a championed child actor turned pop icon, whose well-documented substance abuse has her once-rising star now hurtling toward rock bottom. Essentially, it's the tale of Lindsay Lohan, if LiLo had the good fortune of releasing the hit song of the play's title (by Dustin Gardner of the local band shoe.) and divine intervention by Ziggy Stardust.

The meat of the story begins with strung-out, entitled Olivia dreading her upcoming mandatory rehab sentence, when she's rescued by Francis Fantastic Williams (Chris Berryman), a guardian angel of sorts who seems to be channeling Bowie. As guardian angels go, Berryman is cataclysmically patient and generous as he encourages Olivia to reconnect with the spirit of something undefined but for its name, "Christmahanakwanzika"; the seasonal term feels tacked on — it could be the spirit of kindness, or gratitude, or Care Bears, and one gets the sense it wouldn't change the generic straighten-up bent of the narrative. Aside from a hefty borrow from the premise of A Christmas Carol, there's little to nothing in this story specific to Christmaka (or to Hannukah or Kwaanzaka). The script delivers a number of hilarious, overt winks at the audience that except its plot divots and departure from basic physics, but the lack of this selfsame awareness with regard to the story arc asks the viewer to take it seriously, which seems like an oversight.

The varied children and adults encountered on Olivia's journey are played by a gang of '80s-loving dancers, who take on a mantle of characters but very coolly maintain an otherworldly composure through consistent use of stylized movement. Together, Dion, Zach Hendrickson, Chris Petersen, and Adiva Wayne are a competent Greek chorus that could moonlight at American Apparel. The chemistry between sniveling Jona and loving, ethereal Berryman is rather sweet as they plow through Olivia's childhood memories and lost sense of home, and she logs a number of punchlines at his expense even as their trust and admiration incrementally grows. It feels like a disservice to a promising quirky relationship and a limitless premise to feed the pair a plot this nonspecific, simple, and predictable.

Ultimately, Dance Xanax Dance glitters up every one of its components except the well-trod redemption story at its core. The skillful assemblage of so many production elements is undoubtedly fresh and rewarding, but the production as a whole tends to feel merely different, not new. There are enough dances and jokes to fill a two-act play and fully entertain, but the thorough and thoroughly executed concept makes Bickers's comparatively limp story elements feel like hiccups in an otherwise slick journey.