First he revels, then he rants, the two phases in the career of Timon of Athens being perfectly caught in another spellbinding performance from Simon Russell Beale. Timon’s switch from magnifico to madman is triggered by the big spender’s sudden lack of funds and no prospect of help from the sponging friends on whom he had previously lavished so much. His is a story eloquently told in the blues classic Nobody Loves You When You’re Down and Out and reflected, too, in many a spectacular fall during the recent credit crunch.

It is to this period of financial calamity that National Theatre director Nicholas Hytner has updated the action in his gripping and timely revival of this rarely staged play. The move works very well, allowing us a first glimpse of the grandee as he dispenses largesse amid champagne and canapes at the opening of a new art gallery wing he has endowed. Later, as a down and out, he makes his way, cursing wildly, through ‘Athenian woods’ now become a blighted streetscape in an urban wasteland (designer Tim Hatley).

A late work of Shakespeare’s, with considerable input, most experts believe, from Thomas Middleton, Timon of Athens is neglected, one supposes, partly owing to its mixed pedigree, but as much for its lack of polish, plot (in its later stages at least) and parts for women. Only two female roles are specified in the text — whores supplied to the rebel leader — here a big cheese in anti-capitalist protest — Alcibiades (Ciarán McMenamin), who are exposed to vehement verbal abuse from Timon. But Hytner evens things up by handing over one of the biggest parts, that of Titus’s steward Flavius, to a woman. To ‘Flavia’, powerfully portrayed by Deborah Findlay, comes the thankless task of trying to stem her employer’s reckless generosity. Her loyalty and assistance to him following the fall are touching to behold. Two of the big spender’s circle of admirers, a jeweller and a painter (both unnamed), are also female here. They are played by Jo Dockery and Penny Layden, the latter adding a welcome element of comedy through her wheedling sycophancy. From the philosopher Apemantus (Hilton McCrae) comes what is in this play a very rare commodity, a steady supply of truthful observation concerning the reason for Timon’s social dominance.

When the deluded benefactor finally realises what a fool he has been, he summons his ‘pals’ — all unaware of their new status — to a final dinner party that mirrors in magnificence the one we witness in the days of his pomp. As the dish covers are lifted, though, there stands revealed a gift that at last shows what he thinks of them. Not the stones and water of the play’s text, but something very much nastier. Odd they hadn’t smelt it.

Performances of Timon of Athens continue in the Olivier Theatre until November 1. For tickets call the box office (020 7452 300 (www.nationaltheatre.org.uk).