Binge-watching a five-hour story on stage isn’t something we get to do very often, but back-to-back matinee and evening performances at The Swan allowed us to devour both parts of The Forsyte Saga in one day. It’s the closest theatre comes to sinking into a Netflix box set – except here the drama brushes right past you.
The two plays chart the slow unravelling of a proud, wealthy family who cling to status while love, jealousy and shifting social values press in on all sides. Part One digs into Soames and Irene’s disastrous marriage, her love affair with Philip Bosinney and the fractures this create across the clan. Part Two picks up with the next generation, swept into the freedom of the 1920s, where old wounds refuse to stay buried.
The Swan’s tight embrace suits both parts perfectly. Actors slip through aisles, pause beside benches and land lines so close you catch the tremor in their voices. It creates a kind of emotional pressure cooker with no hiding place for them. And when the story turns brutal – and it does – the shock hits hard. One scene in particularly (if you aware of the previous TV adaptations, you’ll know what I’m alluding to) was so stark and unvarnished that the audience seemed to inhale as one.
What softens the edges, though, is the cast’s extraordinary agility. A modest ensemble of just nine somehow conjure what feels like half of Victorian England across two plays, slipping from one role to the next with enjoyable audacity. It’s a remarkable feat to tackle both productions in a single day, let alone while inhabiting an entire gallery of characters. They shift voice, posture and temperature in a heartbeat, each transformation so precise that you’re aware of the craft without ever being jolted out of the story. It’s shape-shifting of the highest order – the sort that looks effortless precisely because it isn’t.
Fleur Forsyte – the beautifully engaging Flora Spencer-Longhurst – holds the whole story together. As narrator, she’s our anchor and our interpreter – a sharp observer as reflects back on her family. She is joined by Irene (Fiona Hampton) and June (Florence Roberts) in forming a trio of formidable women. In Part One they push against the weight of long-held values; in Part Two they feel more luminous in a society relaxing into the modern age.
Alongside them, Joseph Millson’s Soames sits at the emotional core, a man shaped and constrained by his time. He draws his pain with such clarity that you find yourself pulled towards him, even as his choices push you back. One minute you feel a pang of empathy, the next you bristle at him – and it’s in that uneasy swing that the performance really lives. His closeness to the audience makes every micro-movement count: the twitch of his jaw, the tightening of his fist. Each tiny shift lands with a quiet, devastating force.
For all its heartbreak, the production isn’t short on wit. Jamie Wilkes brought many of the lighter moments – the boating scene in particular delighted the audience – and clever one-liners land with quick, welcome precision, easing the tension before it curdles again. The mix of humour and tragedy feels honest to family life – sprawling, messy, rarely one thing at a time. The staging is pared back to the barest of essentials: a couple of chairs, subtle lighting shifts and sound that nudges mood rather than shouting for attention. It’s clean and confident, giving the actors room to build entire worlds out of almost nothing.
Part One, in particular, packs the heavier punch. It’s the more haunting of the two – the one that leaves you with a knot in your chest. If you only have the chance to see one, it’s the more emotionally resonant piece. But the saga really comes into its own when you experience both. Part Two brings release, wit and a sharper sense of change, and together they build a rich, layered journey. Seen as a whole, they make for an absorbing day in the theatre. You walk out feeling as though you’ve lived alongside the Forsytes – their longings, their flaws, their collisions with duty and desire. It’s storytelling with sweep and bite, delivered with intimacy. Maybe the best box sets are the ones performed a few steps away from your seat.
The Forsyte Saga unfolds across two productions – for full details and tickets click [here].
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Food, Views And A Mid-Saga Reset
If you’re making a full day of it The Rooftop Restaurant, on the third floor of the RSC, is well worth weaving into your plans. The pre-theatre fixed-price menu offers two courses (£31.95) or three courses (£37.95) and is served on show days, between 4pm and 6.15pm (or between 11.30am and 3pm on matinee days). It’s seasonal dishes lean into Christmas without going overboard – plenty of classics if you’re in a festive mood. What impressed me most though, was the vegan choice. It isn’t the usual token offering, but a proper set of options that feel thought through and just as celebratory.
The space itself has an easy charm. Big windows pull in those postcard views of a very Christmassy Stratford – fairy lights, river glinting, the lot – so even before the food arrives you feel cocooned in that warm, December glow. Service is on the ball, which matters if you’re ducking in between Parts One and Two. We opted for the two-course dinner, plates landed quickly but never rushed, and we were back in our seats at the next door Swan with plenty of time to spare.
There’s a lovely buzz to the place at this time of year too. A chatty mix of theatre-goers comparing notes adds to the feeling that you’re not just grabbing a meal but building a whole day around the story you’re about to return to. And if you’re floundering over Christmas presents, pairing The Forsyte Saga with dinner at The Rooftop is an easy win – and far better than the usual last-minute something-or-other. It turns an already absorbing experience into something a little more special – a proper winter outing wrapped in great food and great theatre.
