As Pite says in a fine programme note, Jonathon was interested in the relationship of trauma and addiction, and how these things very often go hand in hand, and this particular line of inquiry generates one of the shows masterstrokes. Before long, a gaudy, tawdry quintet of hoofers appear on stage, decked out like a cut-price Vegas act. Grimly incongruous in these stark, industrial surroundings, these graphically represent the temptation to seek flimsy, untenable solace in substance addiction. Though all their forced, high-octane gaity, its increasingly clear that they are in fact entirely sinister, a sense heightened by the meticulousness of their movements: these demons shouldnt, and dont, put a foot wrong.

The second, more contemporary-dance-filled half plays out on an opened-up but still oppressively murky stage. As in the first section, the microscopic synchronicity of the performers both with each other, and with the pre-recorded conversations that boom out across the stage is extraordinary: no verbal inflection is left unaccounted for in movement, and both Pites and the dancers attention to detail is magnificent.

By now, one gathers, Young has perhaps dared at least to venture outside his room, even if he is still lost in his own head. Repetitive thoughts are still ricocheting hither and thither, and there is of course no complete escape from his grief. By the tentatively optimistic end, however, you feel that he might, finally, have worked out a more functional means of facing the future. Or, put another way, that through sheer, herculean determination, he has finally found the keys to his own psychological prison-cell.

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An astonishing meditation on grief - Betroffenheit, Sadler's Wells, review - Telegraph.co.uk