Hall & Carss Productions
Glow Job is a two-hander comedy following a desperate aesthetics clinic in Yorkshire. With bills piling up and the threat of closure looming, the team will do almost anything to keep the business afloat – even when their ethics and their grip on reality begin to wobble. Annie Hall and Jennifer Carss peel back the glossy veneer of the beauty industry to reveal the considerably messier people underneath.
Glow Job achieved something no other production I’ve seen at the Fringe this year has managed: the performance effectively began before I’d even sat down.
The characters were already there, the world was already established and we were entering their space rather than waiting for the traditional lights-down moment to tell us the show had begun. It’s a technique used by major theatrical productions – think Moulin Rouge! – and here it immediately helped immerse the audience in the strange little world of this Yorkshire aesthetics clinic.
And what a world it is.
The production is delightfully funny, populated by hilarious characters who occasionally feel so recognisable that I found myself wondering whether some of them might be based, at least partly, on actual people. I could be completely wrong, of course, but there’s enough observational truth in the performances to make you wonder.
The story itself is easy to follow. The clinic is struggling financially, closure is looming and desperation is beginning to creep in. Against that backdrop, we watch increasingly questionable decisions being made as the characters attempt to keep everything afloat.
The script is exceptionally well written, with humour running consistently throughout rather than relying solely on occasional punchlines. The pacing is equally strong; scenes don’t outstay their welcome and the production keeps moving.
Both performers deliver excellent performances, but what particularly impressed me were their mannerisms. It’s not simply the dialogue which makes these characters funny. A look, movement or reaction can be enough to get a laugh.
The actors really do carry this production. The writing gives them the material, but their characterisation and comic performances are the stars.
There is also some effective breaking of the fourth wall, with the performers directly addressing and interacting with the audience. This interaction feels natural rather than something bolted onto the show simply to get an audience response.
The venue itself is quite a tight space, which actually suits the slightly chaotic nature of the clinic. However, Glow Job has many of the hallmarks of a production which could develop beyond its Fringe run. If it does eventually transfer into a theatre or larger studio, I’d be interested to see what the company could achieve with a little more room to play with.
There were a couple of areas where I was left wanting slightly more.
The first was the ending. Given how invested I’d become in this wonderfully dysfunctional clinic, it would have been nice to discover more about its eventual fate before the production finished. Does the business survive? Does everything finally implode? I wanted that extra piece of resolution.
I was also left pondering the title.
Glow Job is certainly memorable – you’re unlikely to forget seeing that written in your Fringe diary – but I’d perhaps like the production to make a stronger connection between its title and what we’re watching. Is it simply a cheeky play on words connected to the aesthetics industry? Is it related to one particular character’s interests? Or is there another joke I’ve completely missed?
Perhaps that’s one for Hall & Carss Productions to answer.
Those points aside, this is a very good production.
Glow Job combines an exceptionally well-written script with two excellent comic performances. It has strong pacing, memorable characters and enough absurdity to expose the ridiculous side of an industry built around supposedly achieving perfection.
Ironically, the biggest attraction here isn’t the glossy aesthetics clinic at all.
It’s the wonderfully imperfect people running it.
★★★★ No filler needed — this comedy already has plenty of volume.
