4 MINUTES 12 SECONDS

Old Fitzroy Theatre, September 15. Until October 8

★★★½

At the outset, it feels like British playwright James Fritz is constructing a God of Carnage scenario in the wake of a violent incident at a school gate.

Jack, 17, a promising student with ambitions to study law, has been assaulted by the brother of Jack's girlfriend, Cara.

Jack's mum Di is ropeable. Jack is the apple of his mother's eye, her single most important project and investment. Her protective instinct flares.

There's more than a whiff of class anxiety in the air, too. Cara is, as Di not so delicately puts it, "so Croydon". So is her family. They are everything the socially aspirant Di would like to leave behind.

A showdown is required, obviously, but a series of revelations from Jack's dad David quickly muddies the water. There is a video being circulated online, he explains. An intimate video made by Jack and Cara in Jack's bedroom. It's gone viral.

Suddenly, the moral high ground becomes treacherous and as Di embarks on an investigation into the who and why of the incident, everything she assumes about the men in her life is called into question.

Director Craig Baldwin's austerely staged production, played on beige carpet before black reflective panels suggestive of mobile phone screens (a Hugh O'Connor design), is concentrated and crisp. Scene breaks are rendered like digital glitches in the narrative.

The performances are excellent, led by Danielle King, who effortlessly weaves a vivid portrayal of a woman trying to teach her son a lesson while protecting his interests. Jeremy Waters is similarly convincing as David, whose status anxieties, memorably dismissed as "a dad thing", thicken the plot.

Cara doesn't get much airtime by comparison, but Kate Cheel is able to reveal glimpses of the hurt and betrayal under her streetwise swagger.

4 Minutes 12 Seconds demands to be talked about. As a parent of young sons for whom the internet is akin to tap water, it plays on some obvious fears, most of them not unreasonable given the recent headlines about the "young sluts" Instagram account created by boys of an exclusive Melbourne school, and the countless that have emerged from the locker rooms of the sporting codes.

More compelling, though, is Fritz's depiction of ways in which loyalty, class, fear and love can compel women into silence and an acceptance of the status quo.