Currently running at the Park Theatre, The Forsyte Saga unfolds in two parts, offering audiences a sweeping exploration of love, power, and social expectations within the claustrophobic world of a wealthy Victorian family. Adapted from John Galsworthy’s iconic series of novels, this new dramatization by Shaun McKenna and Lin Coghlan spans multiple generations, from the final years of the Victorian era to the early 20th century. At the heart of the saga lies the relationship between Soames Forsyte, a man whose wealth and status cannot buy him the one thing he truly desires: control over his wife, Irene. Through the lens of Irene’s silent rebellion, the play interrogates themes of possession, obsession, and the suffocating expectations placed on women.
Spoiler warning! Stop reading now if you intend to watch the show.
Emotional and Psychological Impact: An Unsettling Experience
Part 1 left the bee feeling frustrated and unsettled—not necessarily because of any failings in the production, but perhaps because of its success in portraying the relentless emotional spiral between its central characters. Soames’ obsession with Irene, his possessiveness, and his repeated attempts to force her back into his life were profoundly disturbing. Each time Soames seeks Irene out, the tension builds, but by the second or third time, it gave way to fatigue. It’s as if the audience, much like Soames, is caught in an endless cycle of longing, refusal, and desperation. While this might be an intentional reflection of Soames’ obsessive psyche, the experience became emotionally draining, veering into tedium. Real life may be full of such endless spirals, but on stage, the lack of resolution felt more like stagnation than effective drama.
Pacing and Repetition: The Cat and Mouse Dynamic
Much of the tedium stems from two sources: the predictable, almost mechanical way in which one Forsyte man after another becomes infatuated with Irene, and Soames’ relentless pursuit of her. Watching the men become consumed by their desire for her—each one self-aware enough to see what’s happening but too powerless to stop—quickly became monotonous to the spectator, again not because of a fault of the production itself, but because of the severe futility of the cat and mouse dynamic and the existential dread that it can generate, especially in an intimate (almost claustrophobic) setting like the Park Theatre. Then there’s Soames, whose inability to let Irene go feels like a snake endlessly chasing its own tail. His first attempt to confront her feels charged with dramatic tension, but by the second or third time, it starts to feel predictable. As much as this repetitive structure mirrors the obsessive loops that humans can fall into, it also makes the audience feel like they’re caught in a circular trap with no exit in sight. And while this may well be the point, it became a little too visceral for the bee to watch this play out a mere five feet away from its seat. Creepy.
Marriage as Transaction: The Victorian Mindset
At the core of Soames’ pursuit of Irene is a transactional view of marriage. Soames is the quintessential Victorian husband—one who sees marriage as a business deal. For him, Irene is an investment that should yield emotional and sexual returns. He’s made a promise, and he’s holding up his end of the bargain, but when Irene doesn’t reciprocate, his frustration mounts. In his mind, he’s entitled to her love because he has provided for her materially. This is where the power imbalance becomes glaring: Irene’s silence in the face of Soames’ demands is not just frustrating to him—it’s frustrating to us as an audience and, symbolically, to society as a whole.
Soames epitomises a mindset where a woman’s worth is reduced to her domestic role, and when she refuses to fulfill it, she’s seen as deficient, incomplete. Such a view is easy to dismiss as selfish at best, misogynistic at worst, but dear reader, kindly indulge the bee for a moment as it propounds a more radical interpretation. There’s a deeper tragedy here: the men are as much victims of the same social conditioning as Irene. Society has given them such a narrow view of what women are “for” that they cannot see Irene as a person in her own right. Even when she tries to break free, they cannot imagine a world in which she has value outside of her domestic role. While it’s easy to vilify Soames, there’s also something pitiful about his inability to escape his own conditioning, though that pity is certainly no excuse for his abhorrent actions. It’s a stark indictment of how deeply ingrained societal structures can warp even the most well-intentioned individuals.
Therefore, the bee humbly submits that the problem here is more to do with a lack of imagination in society and much less to do with any malevolence or arrogance on Soames’ part. Unless society can expand its vision of what women can be beyond childbearing and homemaking, is it any wonder that men like Soames feel shortchanged when their “investment” doesn’t pay off?
Performances and the Intimacy of the Park Theatre
In a play so dependent on silences, small gestures, and unspoken tension, much of the success of The Forsyte Saga rests on the actors. Here, the performances truly enhance the characters. Joseph Millson (Soames) and Fiona Hampton (Irene) deliver performances that elevate the script beyond what’s explicitly written. The production certainly elevates Irene’s perspective, giving her a voice and an interiority that counters the obsessive male gaze around her. However, she is still treated primarily as an object of desire, not because of her own character flaws but because of the societal structures and institutions that surround her. The men in the play—and in Victorian society—are conditioned to view women as little more than vessels for childbearing and domesticity. In a world where Irene refuses to fulfill that role, the men around her feel shortchanged, and it’s this sense of entitlement that drives Soames’ increasingly violent and possessive behavior. The intimacy of the Park Theatre’s setting only intensifies the emotional impact, making the audience feel like silent witnesses to the domestic drama unfolding in front of them. You’re drawn into their world, almost uncomfortably so, and that closeness amplifies the play’s more unsettling moments.
Who Should See The Forsyte Saga: A Scandalous, Dark, Period Drama for the Patient Viewer
This is a show for fans of period dramas, costume intrigue, and slow-burning tension. If you enjoy the rich scandal of family dramas or the kind of juicy, salacious storytelling that lets you peek behind the curtains of Victorian respectability, The Forsyte Saga may be for you. But be prepared for a slow build and a repetitive emotional loop—those looking for action or neat resolutions might find themselves worn out by the end. If you’re in the mood for an exploration of power, obsession, and the societal pressures that trap both men and women, it’s worth the watch.
As for Part 2? The bee is undecided. While the next generation’s story beckons, promising some resolution to the familial entanglements, whether it will offer something new or simply continue the same spiral remains to be seen. The bee is going to take a bit of time to cool off before it goes back. (Therefore, no rating for now for Part 1 either.)
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