Everybody’s talking about Jamie review: A palpable hit

As an establishing character line, this is as good as it gets.

With his bleached blond hair, effeminate gestures and spiky repartee, the 16-year-old schoolboy makes no secret of his sexuality.

But even his teacher Miss Hedge raises an eyebrow at his career choice.

Unlike his fellow pupils, Jamie prefers Max Factor to The X Factor and his ultimate goal is to become a drag artist. 

Since his psychometric careers test suggests he should become a forklift truck driver, who can blame him? But it’s a hard road to travel for a boy living with his mum in Sheffield.

Inspired by the 2011 BBC documentary about real 16-year-old schoolboy Jamie Campbell, this musical originated at the Sheffield Crucible.

The happy marriage of music by The Feeling’s frontman Dan Gillespie Sells and Tom McRae’s book and lyrics is bolstered by Kate Prince’s terrific street dance-inflected choreography and Lucy Carter’s lighting design.

With hints of Kinky Boots’ camp joie de vivre and Billy Elliot’s domestic struggles, it is an enormously enjoyable show with a serious social riptide.

Jamie’s bestie Pritti Pasha (Lucie Shorthouse) and homophobic bully Dean Paxton (Luke Baker) give standout performances. Josie Walker as Jamie’s indulgent mum Margaret and Mina Anwar as her pal Ray (and Jamie’s father substitute) also deliver the goods in spades.

The songs are designed to reflect the generations singing them. Margaret’s tearjerking ballad He’s My Boy is a Dusty Springfield-type showstopper, Work Of Art is contemporary R&B and the title track is a rip-snorting pop anthem.

The performances never tilt over into teeth ’n’ smiles razzmatazz; there is gritty realism even among the trio of drag queens who help Jamie towards his goal.

Channelling Thin White Duke-era Bowie, John McCrea is the centre of attention and he invests Jamie’s spiky persona with an appealing vulnerability.

The dialogue is sharp, waspish and funny (“I’m a Muslim girl with a Hindu first name. Thanks, Mum!”) and Jonathan Butterell’s direction is polished without being too shiny. A palpable hit.