There’s something cosily fuzzy and familiar about The Osmonds as a group, as a family, and indeed, as an entity within the world of entertainment. At a time when the bad boy shenanigans and edgier aesthetic of rock ’n roll were tightening their stranglehold on the cultural zeitgeist, the wholesomeness of fraternal benevolence that the Brothers O’ represented was a hearty reminder that feel-good never truly goes out of fashion.

The same is true of this jukebox tour through the – mostly pleasant – tale of the family who, as the show proudly boasts, were at one point out-selling and out-charting even the likes of Elvis and The Beatles. Whilst its tread through the rise of the group from child wonderkind (earmarked for success by none other than old Uncle Walt, Disney himself) to globe-trotting, chart-topping heartthrobs offers hints at tensions and occasional acrimony between the brothers, and offers suggestions that their militant father-manager, George (a brilliant Charlie Allen), was overbearing and emotionally unavailable, it never takes it as far as to suggest anything as raw or outright as abuse. Where many jukebox biopics tend to relish in the misery, or compound on the drama, here it’s all mostly kept at surface level, and nothing that a quick pep talk with mom, or spot of brotherly bonding can’t solve (or at least help to gloss over).

Much of this perhaps stems from the project being penned from a ‘story’ by Jay Osmond, one of the original fab four (later five, later, well I lost count…). Julian Bigg and Shaun Kerrison’s book shrewdly places Jay himself as in-out narrator of the piece. On the upside, this mercifully allows The Osmonds to maintain a punchy pace, by dint of Jay guiding us through transitions, scene-setting and other expository fluff that other jukeboxes often struggle to trudge through, or labour over establishing.

The downside, potentially, is that a lot of Osmonds feels slightly at arms length, even in the few moments of actual meaningful conflict and exploration – such as a pivotal late-game family meeting. It’s all, again like the group themselves, mostly froth, sugar and bubblegum, with a palpable hesitancy to really delve too deep into any of the internal or familial conflict. It’s the story of The Osmonds delivered by a member of the Osmonds, and that deference, whilst dignified, can be felt throughout.

Still, there’s likely few going along to a show about The Osmonds expecting anything other than a peppy good time, and it’s here where the show delivers in abundance. Buoyed by their notable catalogue of hits, including such tentpole favourites as ‘Crazy Horses’, ‘He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother’ and perennial crowd-pleaser, ‘Puppy Love’, that zippy pacing rides on a wave of earworms that keeps things energised. A common pitfall of jukebox biopics tends to be a stop-start erraticism born of almost box-ticking expectations, where long spells of drama and history come to an abrupt and jarring halt for the next fan favourite hit to play out. Abetted in no small way by some excellent, fluid direction from Shaun Kerrison, and really stellar choreography from Bill Deamer, The Osmonds uses the family’s discography to consistently vigorous – and occasionally even thematic – effect, moving with real purpose and rhythm throughout. This is no slog – much like, say, The Jersey Boys, this feels like a jukebox musical at least attempting to use the genre to its full on-stage potential.

Barring some minor technical gripes, such as one or two mics seeming to dip below ideal levels throughout, on the whole, Osmonds is a technically and aesthetically pleasing package. Lucy Osborne’s vibrant, sixties and seventies-infused set and costume design are immediately recognisable, whilst also heightened just enough to inject razzmatazz into proceedings, whilst the ever-dependable Ben Cracknell takes the mock-concert styling of the piece and bathes audience and stage alike in a showy splash of colour and era.

“…much like, say, The Jersey Boys, this feels like a jukebox musical at least attempting to use the genre to its full on-stage potential.”

On the stage, shout outs to Nicola Bryan and Georgia Lennon, who give great supporting turns as mom Olive, and sister Marie; the latter singing and dancing up a storm in some of her solo/duet turns. And Alex Cardell is impressively eclectic early on as a variety of tv personalities, including one Andy Williams. But, let’s face it, we can’t go anywhere near appraising a show titled The Osmonds without talking about its titular troupe. Stepping in for the performance reviewed, ensemble member Tristan Whincup (who usually plays Jimmy) put on an admirable show as Donny, with his aforementioned ‘Puppy Love’ getting one of the most spirited audience reactions of the night (no small feat, given the generally bonkers level of fervour in said audience at this particular performance).

Jamie Chatterton and Danny Nattress put in fine, consistent turns as Alan and Wayne, respectively, with Nattress delivering a soulful take on a more sombre favourite in Act II. Ryan Anderson’s Merrill gave some of the best vocals of the night in higher register (not to mention when the mic, or this writer’s ears, permitted) and is, on the whole, the member perhaps best served by the book, outside of Jay. Speaking of whom, Alex Lodge is an effortlessly winning and charismatic presence, steering the busy, bustling show with real gusto and effusive likability.

“…it’s unsurprisingly when they harmonise and take to the stage as a quintet that The Osmonds really aims to fire on all cylindars.”

Whilst all five of the leads are gifted performers individually, it’s unsurprisingly when they harmonise and take to the stage as a quintet that The Osmonds really aims to fire on all cylindars. Having said this, and whether it was a technical or performance issue remains to be seen, there were times where the group performances seemed to lose a bit of vocal oomph. Given that some of the impressive solos and more stripped-back harmonies showcase genuinely terrific voices throughout, it seems tech gremlins may be at fault here. It’s just a little bizarre to watch a show where you can go from being won over and duly impressed by a vocal performance one moment, to hardly hearing the very same singer sometimes moments later. Despite all that, it has to be ackonwledged that moments and set pieces of the five performing together routinely received one of the most vocal, exuberant and hyper-engaged audience reactions of any show this particular writer has been privy to.

By the time it reaches the curtain call, that same innate, gooey warmth and inoffensive, undemanding positivity that is quintessential Osmonds fare takes the day. It doesn’t rewrite any of the rules, and for all of the genuinely impressive spectacle, it’s in service to a fairly pedestrian recap pretty low on dramatic incident and stakes. There’s a smattering of historical inaccuracies and creative license peppered throughout, too; for instance, by the time of the final performance, there’s talk of characters retiring who had, in fact, by that stage in time already passed away, but as per much of the show, the irrepressible feel-good is so ingrained in the IP and identity of the family and their output, that you can’t help but smile, sway and, yes, sing along.

‘Love me for a reason, let the reason be love’ the boys croon, to rapturous response.

And really, it’s all as simple, as unassuming, as doe-eyed, as idealistic and as undeniably iconic as that.