The Factory

"Musicals are just like operas," goes the debate outside Assembly Hall. "They express those heightened emotions that normal dialogue just can't."

Whether you buy into all that or not, there's no denying the cash cow popularity of a triumph-against-adversity musical and The Factory, “big hearted and with all the soul of the South Pacific”, is that. Certainly there are some pretty impressive pipes on display, with the authentically native Kila Kokonut Krew unleashing some room-filling choruses and caterwauling harmonies.

The catalyst for The Factory, which is merely the backdrop for a paper-thin love story and all the hoofin’ and hollerin’, is actually quite interesting. It begins with the moment, during the 1970s, when a rapidly industrialising and exploitative New Zealand relaxed its immigration policies to the apparent benefit of those Pacific Islanders living beneath the breadline. But who wants to get bogged down in all that when there’s flares to flash and money to be made!

In a textiles factory in Auckland, beautiful Samoan Losa and Edward, heir to the family business, are our Romeo and Juliet whose path to true love is bound to have a few twists, though there’s very little else to surprise in this frankly machine-tooled and oddly westernised production.

Still, there’s something undeniably compelling about watching vast Polynesian frames hop, hurtle and high-kick round the stage to some magisterial ensemble singing. It’s hardly Hamlet, but if you’re looking for a brainless, high-energy and familiarly formed feelgood musical, you’ll find enough to engage you here.