Last year, British theatre critic, Mark Shenton, wrote an article entitled The Four Sweetest Words in the Theatre: 80 Minutes No Interval.

Obviously, Travis Cotton concurs and his play, called 80 MINUTES NO INTERVAL, is a four score minute scream, a sweet spot in the Sydney theatre scene, bold, black and batty; brilliantly funny.

The title tells you nothing save for the truth in advertising running time but basically it’s about a bloke called Louis, a writer, (debilitated by deliberation), procrastinator and commitment-phobe.

We first meet Louis seated at a restaurant table for two, adorned with red rose, perusing the “fourth wall” blackboard menu, trying to decipher the culinary code of the offered cuisine.

He’s stuck on an item that includes soupçon in its description, suspicious of a meal that contains the French word for suspicion. An attendant waiter cannot quell his quease, nor can his date, long suffering girlfriend, Claire, the reason for the romantic dinner. Louis has at last decided to propose to Claire, a ticking biological time bomb who is ready to accept all Louis’ failings, foibles and frustrations as a trade off for beginning her own family.

Claire has put up with his “breadwinning” career as a theatre reviewer, though she finds theatre a wasteland of wankers and wonky wannabees- her litany of loath about the propensity to pretentiousness by play makers is a show highlight.

Not only has Cotton taken up the cudgel with the title, he uses it to impressively and entertainingly hammer home his idea of theatre, both his pet hates and his love of it.

There’s plenty of love, and plenty to love as Cotton has a strong grasp on the anatomy of a play – an eye for detail, an ear for dialogue, a nose for composition. The dialogue gives the actors a jaw gym workout of words that build the play’s muscle tone and there are imaginative and audacious choices in stage craft and scene transition.

Cotton has elected to direct his script, a slap in the face to received wisdom in such matters, and his perfect casting raises the decision from a slap to a knock-out punch.

Ryan Johnson has a lovely quality as the pivotal Louis who seems cursed through a conspiracy of circumstance, coincidence and character trait.

Sheridan Harbridge is shell shockingly shit hot in a trio of characters- Claire, Mum and Carol, – with timing to a T and nifty nuance.

Robin Goldsworthy is also triumphant in a triumvirate – dad, boss, and the publishing tyro, Dan Kurtz, who makes a meal of the megalomaniac who gives grizzly credence to the adage; the pen is mightier than the sword.

Jacob Allen is the waiter, giving good weight to the one who waits, and Julia Rorke as Mathilde, a late entry character who is certainly worth the wait.

Mostly played against a backdrop of black curtain, Georgia Hopkins production design literally blossoms and blooms for the ultimate act, given audacious contrast by the penultimate scene played in pitch black accompanied by Hamish Michael’s striking audio atmos.

80 MINUTES NO INTERVAL is like an excellent espresso – strong, black with a rich crema. Sip it and see.

80 MINUTES NO INTERVAL is playing the Old Fitzroy theatre, 129 Dowling Street, Woolloomooloo until 9th April. Performances Tuesdays to Saturdays at 7.30pm and Sundays at 5pm.