Daniel Keene’s new play, The Lark, invites us to pause and consider what we lose when the places that shape us vanish. It paints a gentle portrait of a disappearing Australia, one that left me reflecting on the quiet weight of change.
Following its Melbourne premiere last month, The Lark now comes to QPAC, presented by Arts Centre Melbourne and Hey Dowling. The production reunites Keene with Noni Hazlehurst and director Matt Scholten, building on the success of their previous collaboration, Mother, the highly acclaimed play that enjoyed a revival tour last year.
At its heart is 75-year-old Rose Grey (played by the much-loved Hazlehurst), as she farewells her old Melbourne pub, a place that has been her home, her livelihood and her refuge, now facing demolition.
The story unfolds as a kind of patchwork. Rose speaks directly to the audience, sharing snippets from her life and the lives of the people who once filled her bar. She inherited the pub from her father, and it’s clear that the building holds the whole weight of her world.
Early on, we learn that Rose’s mother left when she was young, a loss that deepened her bond with her father and, later, with the pub itself after his death.
His absence lingers over the play, a quiet ache that feels universal. Who hasn’t clung to a place or object to keep a loved one close? Hazlehurst’s dry humour and sharp timing bring moments of lightness, yet her performance made me ponder how we carry grief in the spaces we inhabit.
Throughout, Rose recalls the regulars and friends who drifted in and out of her orbit. Each memory is vivid and well-drawn, yet as one story follows another, the rhythm can feel familiar, almost lulling.
At first, I longed for a dramatic peak to break the quiet, but I came to see this stillness as the play’s strength, a mirror to how memory itself unfolds, not in grand climaxes but in soft, persistent waves. Rose speaks with gentle honesty, her words carrying the soft ache of remembrance, inviting us to sit with our own fading stories.
Hazlehurst gives a grounded, thoughtful performance, balancing Rose’s self-deprecating humour with the grief that sits just beneath the surface. It was her stillness that was most affecting, a reminder that grief often lives in what we don’t say.
The production design beautifully supports the tone. Darius Kedros’ soundscape blends soft piano with the faint hum of city traffic. Richard Vabre’s golden lighting ebbs and flows with Rose’s storytelling. Emily Barrie’s set, a lovingly weathered L-shaped bar, captures the feel of a once-bustling pub now sliding into memory.
The Lark is not a play of high drama or big revelations, but one of mood and memory, content to linger in the quiet spaces of loss. For audiences willing to lean into its stillness, The Lark offers a moving meditation on the spaces we lose and the stories we carry. It is a gentle nudge to cherish what remains before it, too, fades.
The Lark runs to 26 October at the Cremorne Theatre, QPAC, Grey Street South Brisbane Qld 4101.
Tickets: https://qpac.n.qtix.com.au/tickets/series/thelark25?
Website: https://qpac.com.au/whats-on/2025/the-lark
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/atqpac/
Photo credits: Cameron Grant
