The facts, such as they matter, are these. This new show from boundary-pushing favourites Shunt is inspired by Emile Zola’s 1891 novel L’Argent, which centres on a French financial crisis and banking collapse. Shunt leaves the specifics entirely unexplained, though, as what counts in this disused tobacco warehouse by London Bridge is the all-round sensory experience.

It’s ever so rare, and thrilling for it, to have not the slightest idea of what might happen next in a theatrical space. This continual element of surprise is where Shunt’s collective of devisers and performers triumph, leading us into a mysterious, clanking three-storey edifice, where the action unfolds around, above and below us.

Firstly it’s pitch black, then lights reveal some sort of boardroom-cum-waiting-room. Masked figures walk on beams above our heads, and under the glass floor there’s a sauna. We long to explore this peculiar formicarium-like place for ourselves, as we would in a Punchdrunk site‑specific production.

From the start, there’s a strong sense of capitalist commotion, as a financial programme on the television monitors around the walls starts to go spookily off‑message. It’s oddly reminiscent of the flashing stock prices of Enron and the two pieces, although wildly different, share that initial heady euphoria of rampant financial speculation working out well.

Yet the Shunt Collective is no Lucy Prebble when it comes to script-shaping and there are times when this feels too dispiritingly elliptical for its own good. Would it hurt if just one character were properly explained? In lieu of this, we sing a song about a boy and his dancing bear, and mull over an ingenious, jangling evening.

Booking to 22 December
(www.shuntmoney.co.uk).