The production boasts a good script, splendidly researched, well-paced and well-crafted by Elavazhagan Murugan. We get the classic love story of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal (named Mumtaj in the surtitles), two villains in the form of the ambitious prince Shahriyar and the scheming Queen Nur Jehan, physical comedy and wit from the sidekicks Sher and Gulabi, and even a hard realist perspective from the young prince Aurangzeb, who protests the building of the eponymous mausoleum due to its costs on the people.

No ahistorical winks at the audience or forced attempts to make the show relevant to contemporary times, either – unlike Kee Thuan Chye (The Swordfish, then The Concubine), Aidli Mosbit (Ma'Ma Yong) or myself (The Last Temptation of Stamford Raffles), this is a playwright who can embrace high dramatic tradition without irony. And though I don't speak Tamil myself, my boyfriend assures me of the ingeniousness of the wordplay.

And then there's the sets and costumes – my lord. Palatial backdrop after palatial backdrop, lush jungle foliage, nuptial lanterns and real flower garlands hanging from flybars, spray-painted boudoirs and gables, even two working fountains, accompanied by an endless succession of brilliantly coloured, dazzlingly rhinestoned gowns and tunics and turbans, enough to give The Merchants of Bollywood a run for its money. Nor is this clumsily applied: the final scene features simply a detailed 2D cut-out of the Taj Mahal itself, advancing slowly on wheels towards us amidst atmospheric music, yet it's terribly effective – a manifestation of the undying fruit of a history of love, war and sacrifice, it almost makes you weep.

Yet there's something lacking. For all its grandeur, the production lacks polish, often betraying its amateur roots. The songs, for instance, are pre-recorded, while the actors clownishly lip-sync their way through the score. Ironically, the show boasts live musicians, but they're only there to do musical accompaniment for narrative bits.

Then there's the melodrama, which really is laid on pretty thick. It's almost ludicrous the fifth time Queen Nur Jehan's monologues are accompanied by the same looped musical leitmotif. Also, surprisingly for an Indian period drama, the dances aren't that impressive – though there's a dozen or more ladies from Bhrathaa Arts Dancers cutting a rug in the background of any given occasion, their movements are fall short of the visual spectacle of a traditional dance drama or even a revue by the LaSalle Musical Theatre Programme. Only one virtuoso moment, in fact: a lovely little solo dance piece by Priyalatha Arun as Nur Jehan.

Fortunately, Taj Mahal escapes the most frequent flaw of amateur dramas, which is sub-standard acting. Given that most characters are either one-dimensional paragons of virtue or villains, it's hard to pick out the exceptional actors – I'd thought Ganesh was merely competent as Shah Jahan until he managed to dramatically age 40 years between scenes. Mano Vickneswaran and Malathi Desikmony, of course, are delightful as the comedy couple Sher and Gulabi, teasing and abusing each other in a parody of courtly love. Gayathri couldn't quite make me fall in love with her portrayal of Mumtaj, but she was on the whole satisfactory. No real complaints.

Perhaps my main complaint is with the English-language media, which has pretty much ignored this production – an improved re-run of the play, which was first hit pay dirt when performed in 2008. This was not a minor production: it ran four nights in the Drama Centre, and had filled up the stalls on the evening I attended, yet it received no publicity in The Straits Times or Today. But of course, The Inkpot has also been consistently clueless and un-proactive in terms of covering Tamil language theatre – the only Tamil play I can find in Inkpot's archives is P, presented as part of Projek Suitcase 2006, and even that was staged by a Malay theatre group. We can do better.

With its massive scale and high production values, Taj Mahal shows that great things are possible in homegrown Tamil theatre today – and, since many of the actors are young, that great things are possible in the future as well. I'm looking forward to seeing more from Ravindran Drama Group, Mirror Theatre and other active Tamil language theatre companies here. Such a triumph can be repeated. Let the epic continue.