Never destined to make the top ten of Shakespeare plays, Timon at least feels timely. This remorselessly linear study of economics and trust, largely untainted by romance or politics, shows a rich nobleman plunged into destitution and misanthropic despair after squandering his fortune on false friends. Lucy Bailey's production might be swamped by its conceptual staging were it not for this veneer of credit-crunch relevance, and the commanding central performance of Simon Paisley Day.

When she covered the open Globe with a claustrophobic canopy for a production of Titus Andronicus so gory that playgoers fainted, Bailey was hailed as a radically brilliant fixer of "difficult" Shakespeare plays here.

Unfortunately, putting a roof on an open-air theatre is a trick that shows diminishing returns. Here, there's a rope net above the audience, through which Timon's creditors swoop on bungee cords dressed as crows - cawing, flapping and pecking at him. Others swarm in, yipping like dogs.

This is justified by Shakespeare's imagery of predatoriness and gluttonous feeding but self-defeating for a play comprised of densely pessimistic, poetic speeches and taut, sharp exchanges. It takes ages for the aerial performers to get into position, but the moment there's a twang or a tweet from up above, you can see distraction wash like a Mexican wave over the audience as they turn their faces up and away from the stage.

This is a shame as Paisley Day is excellent. I was at university with him when he was plain Simon Day, and he was a surprisingly mature, poised actor then. Now he brings conviction to Timon's asinine largesse and to his subsequent hatred of all humanity. He even maintains a bass note of authenticity in the pantomimic scenes where, having discovered gold in his hermit's hole, Timon showers it on the stomachs of importuning whores, or defecates on it before offering it to greedy courtiers.

There's good support from Patrick Godfrey as Timon's improbably loyal servant and Bo Poraj as the scathing philosopher Apemantus. But it's hard to escape the feeling that Bailey and designer William Dudley don't trust the material. And it's hard not to sympathise. Major productions of Timon, like economic upheavals, only come round every 10 years or so. The greatest argument for seeing this may be that it's a rare theatrical curio given a gimmicky staging, but with a sterling central performance.

In rep until 3 October (020 7401 9919, www.shakespeares-globe.org).