Before we get going, let’s get one thing, for lack of a better word, straight; drag is not, and has never been, a threat to your kids. Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, based on the real-life story of British schoolboy Jamie Campbell and his journey of self-discovery through drag, made its West End debut in 2017, before contemporary hand-wringing over drag’s ‘corrupting influences’ had really hit a fever pitch. More recently, we’ve seen a virulent backlash against the art form, including right here in Oxford at a Drag Queen Story Hour last year, from queerphobic right-wing protestors looking to carve out yet more ground in a phony culture war.

These folks seem to have suffered an attack of collective amnesia; Lily Savage, Dame Edna and the entire concept of pantomime are still very much within living memory, and I’m willing to bet this lot didn’t kick up a fuss then. Saying you have a moral objection to drag would be as absurd as saying you have a moral objection to movies; it’s a medium like any other, a neutral term within which lies boundless expressive potential. The only goal, really, is self-expression; and that’s exactly what our protagonist, Jamie New (Ivano Turco) is looking to find from the confines of his humdrum Sheffield classroom. Despite his careers assessment test saddling him with ‘forklift truck driver’, Jamie’s true dream is to be a drag queen, and with the gift of a pair of red six-inch stilettos from mum Margaret (Rebecca McKinnis) and firebrand auntie Ray (Shobna Gulati), he sets out on the yellow brick road to stardom.

The ensemble cast of Jamie are a treat to take in; Ivano Turco, of course, revels in the title role, a born show-off with his head in the clouds and (respectfully) legs all the way down to the floor. He’s full of himself, naturally, but with a ditzy, ‘no thoughts, head empty’ charm and underlying current of self-doubt that keeps his bravado from grating. Rebecca McKinnis shines as Margaret, balancing absolutely unconditional love for her boy with the resignation and frustration of having to account for his absentee father (Akshay St Clair) and Jamie’s often self-involved behaviour. Her brassy back-and-forths with Ray are a hoot; Gulati has phenomenal comic chops and undoubtedly gets the night’s biggest laughs.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention West End veteran Darren Day as Jamie’s drag mentor Hugo/Loco Chanelle, who carries himself with the ready wit (and sometimes weariness) of a queer elder who has seen it all and lost more than his share; and Talia Palamathanan as Jamie’s best friend Pritti, the class wallflower with dreams of becoming a doctor. Pritti honestly deserves more character development than she got - Palamathanan’s performance has a beautiful texture to it as Pritti’s inner strength becomes more prominent, but it’s rarely seen outside of the context of validating Jamie’s storyline, which is a shame when there seemed to be so much more depth to explore.

The script in general has some standout moments but runs a tad predictable - it’s at its best when it leans into the Victoria Wood-esque comedic sensibility in which the writers, Jonathan Butterell and Tom McCrae, seem most comfortable. Much of the exchanges between Margaret and Ray seem right out of an episode of dinnerladies, which is fine by me: if you’re into no-nonsense Northern women shooting the breeze, it’s a grand old time. But the beats it hits are very standard for a queer coming-of-age story, and throwing in contemporary references (namechecking Kylie Jenner, RuPaul etc.) feels dated and self-conscious, and also makes the title number, where Jamie’s classmates debrief about his drag show, seem all the more bizarre. “What’s a lip sync?/Is that like kissing?”- there’s no way contemporary sixth formers who know who RuPaul is would be that clueless about the ins and outs of a drag performance. Also, can we please retire the obligatory moment in every queer storyline when our protagonist stands up and says, “You know what, [insert name of bully]? I AM a [slur], and a [different slur], and a [third slur], but [insert empowering speech]”. It’s such a tired writing convention for a show that’s ostensibly about ringing in the New - and some of the things Jamie says to defend himself, like calling school bully Dean a “povvo” and inviting him to “slit his wrists and do the world a favour”, seemed so mean-spirited and out of sorts with his characterisation that it had me questioning why I should root for him either.

The score is carried by undeniable vocal skill from our ensemble and some very slick choreo, but on the whole is pretty generic - if you were to play me most of the songs on the soundtrack I wouldn’t be able to tell you they were from a musical without outside context. ‘The Legend of Loco Chanelle’ is a particular standout in part because it’s not afraid to get into specifics, and Turco injects so much personality into numbers like ‘And You Don’t Even Know It’ that you can forgive some pretty by-the-numbers lyrics. But the show is very ballad heavy for such a slight plot, and songs like ‘The Wall in my Head’ or ‘Work of Art’ are either too vague to provide real characterisation or are just downright confusing - it’s not clear whether Miss Hatch parades Jamie down the corridor to empower him or humiliate him, and feels like a misuse of Harriet Payne’s powerful vocals.

McKinnis’ first half solo ballad ‘If I Met Myself Again’ should be an intimate, vulnerable self examination, but unfortunately this is hampered by technically proficient but misapplied choreography from two onstage dancers meant to represent a younger Margaret and her lost love. It reminded me of Vincent Rodriguez III’s ‘Angry Mad’ choreography from Crazy Ex Girlfriend, and came across as a hat on a hat, the kind of set piece that was included because it felt like something a musical should have. It was like the show didn’t trust McKinnis to carry it on her own - which, as she proves in the second half solo ballad ‘He’s My Boy’, she is more than capable of doing, to incredible effect. She’s also able to access real rawness with her vocals (which would be my only quibble with Turco, who can deliver silky melismas like there’s no tomorrow but hesitates to fully remove the polish on songs which need it, like the guttural ‘Ugly in This Ugly World’).

But to get personal, as a non-binary person who also found their identity in part through performance, I feel like Everybody’s Talking About Jamie is a story I would have been grateful for growing up, if one I might eventually have grown out of. It’s not the most sophisticated examination of gender (it’s written by two cis men, so no surprise there) - it occasionally falls back in some pretty binary tropes, and it’s a little muddled about what exactly Jamie’s gender identity is. He refers to himself as a ‘boy in a dress’, but also ‘a boy who sometimes wants to be a girl’ - but it’s an inconsistency that I think speaks to the messy and often uneven process of finding your authentic self. Jamie’s teacher Miss Hatch constantly hammers the point home to “get real”, but isn’t the goal of performance ultimately to find some kind of truth, to play around until you hit on something that fits?

Gender non-conforming youth need more chances to see people like them experiencing unambiguous joy and acceptance, and parents, especially in our current cultural moment, need to see the benefits of giving your child the freedom and autonomy to explore who they are. It’s not perfect by any stretch, and I’d encourage you to follow it up with something that’s a bit more considered in its scope (the excellent TV series Sex Education leaps to mind). Jamie emerges at one point decked in a reworked dress from a previous show, festooned in feathers, sequin hot pants and fairy lights. “It’s too much!”, his mum chides him gently, and she’s right, but it’s an apt representation of the show as a whole - it’s overloaded with the bells and whistles of musical convention, but trim away some of the excess, and you’ll find the beauty in it