Melanie Allison is one of our most prolific local talents here in Kirikiriroa Hamilton, having produced and staged six original plays in the last five years, and been nominated for the Playmarket Playwrights b4 25 competition three times. Their plays often thematically wrestle with agency, emotional boundaries and family (or near offer), and often with a surreal tint and a cinematic sensibility.

Co-directed with Pauline Smith, Allison’s latest is The Last Thing We Build, a dramedy that blends humour and heartbreak in a story about a mother, her daughters, neighbours and what remains when things start to fall apart. I was fortunate to give Allison feedback on an earlier version of the script and now see how the show has evolved into a full stage production.

Rita (Michelle Ranginui) comes home to her woodworking shed with a health diagnosis; her daughters Margo (Chanelle Harrison) and Lucy (Mandy Hale) have elected to stay with Rita to help (or hover) and make sure that she’s looking after herself. Ranginui, Harrison and Hale make a great trio on stage, assured and relaxed, filling the scenes with life. I am especially surprised to learn this is Ranginui’s stage debut, and I hope we can see more of her in local theatre soon.

Meanwhile, Rita has accepted the job of building a coffin – not for herself, but her elderly neighbour Arthur (Colin Hodkinson, filling in for John McKee, who was injured just before the season). Arthur’s convinced that his time to die is coming soon. Around them circle a kindly and nervous neighbour Eli (Andrew T. Lyall), and Possum (Finn Maxwell), Rita’s stoner flatmate whose haze hides moments of poetic observation.

It’s a busy world, full of overlapping lives and conversations, but The Last Thing We Build isn’t a plot-driven story. Instead, it’s about the people and the slow work of holding a family together, despite the cracks in the walls that long should have been mended.

Allison’s writing frequently captures the dry wit and emotional friction of family life. Rita and her daughters are brittle and sarcastic, their mutual irritation disguising their affection. Their dialogue snaps and overlaps; the rhythm of people who know exactly where to press to make each other flinch. The opening scenes are especially strong, setting up a tension by leaving much implied. And the inversion of parent-child roles is tender: daughters fuss over their mother, while she remains the one keeping everyone else upright. It’s tender, and a reminder that love often shows up as labour and care can look a lot like control. This is where the play is most grounded.

Emotionally, the production wears its heart openly, and performers are directed to act with the script, rather than against it: if the script says they’re sad, the acting is sad; when characters are arguing, they quickly escalate to shouts. In a related issue, characters often repeat or explain events that we’ve already seen, summarising for the others who weren’t in the room for a particular interaction. It’s clear and honest, but it’s also very literal and risks overexplaining to the audience.

The Last Thing We Build sits somewhere between domestic drama, existential reflection and a comedy, sometimes struggling to negotiate all its plot elements, characters and themes. All the parts are there, though they don’t always fit together well: there is a bit of shaping left to do before the varnish is put on. But that uncertainty can also be part of its charm, a reflection of characters (and perhaps a writer) still figuring it out as they go.

For all its unevenness, The Last Thing We Build is a play full of heart. It’s less about death than about the work of living: how we keep building, repairing and showing up. Allison may still be honing her craft but this is the work of a playwright with a real voice – honest, often funny, and unafraid to look directly at love and loss.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer