'Timon Of Athens' at The National Theatre

Last week I went to see 'Timon Of Athens' a Shakespeare play I've never seen or read before. I settled into the comfortable seats of the Olivier circle and gazed at an empty stage, empty except for a dozen or so tents at the back of the stage.

They were soon covered up when the main scenery descended in the shape of a wall with two entrances with, above one of the entrances, the words 'Timon Gallery' lit up. Ah, I know where we are now, the opening party for the new gallery room donated by the rich and benevolent Timon, with people milling round him, talking about him and talking to him. He is feted by artists and poets and his generosity is sealed when, without fluttering an eyelash he pays the fine for the son of an old friend to bail him out of prison. The scene is set, with Timon well-loved and generous, a power in stately Athens who can smooth away any unpleasantness for his friends with a wave of his chequebook.

Things are rarely as they seem with Shakespeare and we soon learn that Timon is massively in debt and when he sends to his friends to ask them to help him they all have  a reason not to dip into their own pockets while still accepting gifts of jewels and horses from Timon. And some even send in the bailiffs to get debts paid. Timon's cosy and comfortable world slowly comes crashing down as he realises he has no friends and the loyalty of his household is all he can count on but he sends them away.

I'm with this so far and intrigued with how Shakespeare will reconcile everything in the end.

The second half of the play takes place in what looks like a derelict site with Timon down and out, his meagre possessions in a shopping trolley. He finds a stash of gold and freely gives it away to the rebels when they politely ask. Word spreads and he's violently robbed of the rest of the gold. Then the leaders of Athens come to seek his gold again. The rebels join the government of Athens and, in the final scene are just as dismissive of Timon, the man who funded them when they asked, as the governors. The play ends with  a reading of his epitaph damning mankind. So, no resolution then.

The staging was excellent, the elegance and simplicity of the first half contrasting with the messiness of the second. The cast were excellent with Simon Russell Beale as Timon, Deborah Findlay as his steward Flavia and Hilton McRae as the philosopher whose clarity of vision troubles Timon throughout the play. It's a large cast and includes two dancers from The Royal Ballet that provide the entertainment for Timon's dinner guests in the first half of the play.

It's an excellent production but I can see why it's rarely performed. It's unsatisfactory, it leaves a bad taste in the mouth, it damns humanity. I was ready to be uplifted not damned alongside the rest of the audience. Where was the grand vision, the greatness of the language, the glimpses of heaven and hell? We were only given hell, a selfish, money-grabbing, me-me-me version of hell perfect for the economic and banking crisis of the last few years and today. O yes, Shakespeare foresaw it all and leaves us adrift with nothing to cling onto for comfort or safety.

Now is the perfect time to stage this play again and, judging from the lack of seats the other night, it's doing well. And the mysterious tents at the very start? Clearly the set designer is being clever and alluding to the Occupy London protest outside St Paul's earlier this year. The tents never reappear so perhaps that's an allusion too far?