THE FORSYTE SAGA at Park Theatre

★★★★★

“flawlessly executed under Josh Roche’s stylish direction that adds a unique clarity to the sweeping story”

John Galsworthy’s “The Forsyte Saga” earned him the Nobel Prize for literature. Its epic chronicle of the leading members of an extended upper-middle-class Victorian family has understandably been adapted many times for cinema and television. It is a brave undertaking to adapt the extensive series of novels for the stage, especially for a society that, a century later, will undoubtedly balk at the societal norms embedded in the period. Shaun McKenna and Lin Coghlan have woven together the various strands of the story into a truly magnificent two-part stage play that presents the full meaning and intention of Galsworthy’s original with aesthetic truthfulness. While also allowing it to resonate with a thoroughly modern audience and still be relevant to the way we live our lives now.

First things first: the logistics. The two parts of the play are showing in rep. “Part 1: Irene” and “Part 2: Fleur”. On select days both parts can be seen back-to-back. The programme notes express the hope that ‘each play stands alone, but the experience is far richer if you see both’. More than a clever marketing ploy, the statement is partly true. Yes, they do stand alone (Part 1 more so than Part 2), but it’s not just a far richer experience – it is absolutely essential to see both. For the simple reason that they are both unmissable. What’s more – view them in the correct order. It’s a bit of a marathon coming in collectively at just under five hours, but every moment counts. The shift in the dynamics of the second part involves more investment from the audience, but the whole effect is one of a four act play rather than two independent two-act pieces (you’ll have a couple of hours in between so check out the delicious pizza they serve in the bar).

“The Forsyte Saga” is a male dominated story, yet from the outset this is subverted. The women are very much at its heart here. Pumping that heart is Fleur, played with a subversive passion by Flora Spencer-Longhurst. She introduces, narrates and guides us through the generations – initially the ghost of what is yet to come, but as the events catch up with her, she steps fully into the story. The device is flawlessly executed under Josh Roche’s stylish direction that adds a unique clarity to the sweeping story. Scenes overlap, and with little more than a turn of the head we are transported to a different time and location. Anna Yates’ set consists of nothing but a plush red carpet and matching velvet curtains that draw back to reveal the plain brickwork of the playing space. The vivid picture that the performers plant in our imaginations with such conviction ensures that the bare wall becomes a country house, the rolling countryside, a ballroom, a city street, the riverside… well, you get the picture.

Having got to grips with the multiplicity of characters, the main action follows Soames Forsyte (Joseph Millson). His newly acquired wealth and status give him a self-imposed right to want to own everything he sees, including his wife Irene (Fiona Hampton). Millson drags his character deeper and deeper into this delusional obsession with a remarkable performance that ultimately grabs our sympathy by the throat. Irene consistently gains the upper hand, resisting Soames’ grasping intention, and Hampton brilliantly draws us into her world of male entitlement that she refuses to submit to. The domesticity swiftly becomes uncomfortable to watch (remember that marital rape only became illegal in 1992). Yet everybody is a victim in their own way. Andy Rush as the tragic love interest of Irene encapsulates the snowballing effect of action and reaction.

Most of the cast multi-roll, and as the period shifts from the late nineteenth century to the nineteen-twenties in Part 2, the aging of the characters is passed on to other members of the company with a smoothness of transition that puts Doctor Who’s regenerations to shame. At times it is hard to reconcile the mind to the fact that only nine actors are portraying such a vast league of gentlemen and ladies. I would love to highlight each performance just as I would like to lay out each of the plot twists and turns, but in the interests of column-inches, I will instead simply urge you to discover it for yourself.

Except to say, though, that Spencer-Longhurst’s performance is the cornerstone. Barely offstage for five hours, her journey is epically moving. The daughter of Soames, she is a woman ahead of her time, childlike and mischievous but ultimately unable to escape her father’s gene pool. Forbidden love thwarted; she settles for Michael Mont (Jamie Wilkes in fine form as an escapee from P.G. Wodehouse). However, her love still lies with her cousin Jon (Andy Rush – unrecognisable from his other ill-fated characters). Here Spencer-Longhurst pulls out all the stops of her versatility as she crumples into a carbon copy of her father, with a desire to repossess Jon that borders on obsession and selfishness. The past is uncovered and tragically recycled. Roche’s staging again employs remarkable devices to enhance the poignancy, with Alex Musgrave’s lighting steering us towards a strikingly emotive climax. Likewise, Max Pappenheim’s compositions and sound design echo the journey made through time and through the characters’ swooping arcs.

We have travelled from 1886 to 1927 in the course of an afternoon and evening. Two plays, two generations. One company. To describe it as a period drama is a disservice. It crosses all ages. Within the Forsyte dynasty we see how each generation is the product of its time, but also the product of its predecessors. Watching it in 2024 we also get a sense of that indestructible link to our ancestors. We may like to think it is broken, but splinters still pierce the skin of our modern-day vulnerabilities. McKenna and Coghlan have skilfully and powerfully transposed an outdated and convoluted storyline into a modern and intimate theatre, finding both humour in the humourless and pathos in the unforgiving. In the hands of the excellent ensemble cast, it is a must see. You could get by on seeing just ‘Part 1: Irene’, or ‘Part 2: Fleur’. But don’t settle for merely ‘getting by’. Indulge yourself in the whole saga.

THE FORSYTE SAGA at Park Theatre

Reviewed on 19th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mitzi De Margary

Previously reviewed at this venue:

AUTUMN | ★★½ | October 2024

23.5 HOURS | ★★★ | September 2024

BITTER LEMONS | ★★★½ | August 2024

WHEN IT HAPPENS TO YOU | ★★★★★ | August 2024

THE MARILYN CONSPIRACY | ★★★★ | June 2024

IVO GRAHAM: CAROUSEL | ★★★★ | June 2024

A SINGLE MAN | ★★★★ | May 2024

SUN BEAR | ★★★ | April 2024

HIDE AND SEEK | ★★★★ | March 2024

COWBOYS AND LESBIANS | ★★★★ | February 2024

HIR | ★★★★ | February 2024

LEAVES OF GLASS | ★★★★ | January 2024

THE FORSYTE SAGA

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★★★

“an authentic taste of Japanese theatre and art that Hoaglund’s translation respects”

At first there is silence. A slowly revolving set, plain white but daubed with an insect caught in a web of vivid brush strokes. The characters will gradually get lured into the web too over the next hour and a half. Many metaphors too; enough of them to feed the hungriest black widow. Lanterns hover above, vibrating like moths around a flame, or like the early tremors of an impending earthquake. Another metaphor? Who really knows? Takuya Kaneshima’s play, “Tattooer”, is inscrutable enough to withhold the answers, but open enough to leave us hanging on in the vain hope that we might find them.

Based on, or rather inspired by, the short story – ‘Shisei’ – by renowned Japanese author Jun’ichirō Tanizaki, it centres on Seikichi (Leo Ashizawa), a tattoo artist of high repute whose longtime wish is to ‘carve his soul’ into the skin of a beautiful woman. We never really understand his motives; whether it is merely to create a masterpiece or whether there is something more ominous going on. Seikichi relishes the pain of the tattoo too much. There are explicit undertones of sado-masochism, and there is something sinister and lecherous about him. Coercive even. Far from erotic, it renders Seikichi a wholeheartedly unlikeable character.

Before we meet him, we are introduced to the tattooer’s muse (is ‘tattooee’ a word?). She is Kazuyo, initially frightened but her compliance roots her to her fate. We are plunged into further obscurity by the fact that Kazuyo is split into two characters. Mao Aono is ‘Kazuyo A’ while Aki Nakagawa is ‘Kazuyo B’. The pair give wonderfully restrained and haunting performances. Their movements are sculptured, like ivory netsukes that slot into each other’s bodies and personalities. But like the play itself, our minds are filled with questions that never find their answers. Linda Hoaglund’s translation is as sparse as the original text’s intention, leaving us to rely on the almost mime-like spectacle – at times beautiful, at other times grotesque. Are they two sides of the same woman, are they sisters? Are they body and soul separated? Does Aono represent the pre-tattoo Kazuyo while Nakagawa depicts the aftermath? Are they representations of death and life?

Seikichi drugs Kazuyo A into submission. Kazuyo B wakes up transformed. Nakagawa deftly demonstrates a triumphant cruelty as the roles are reversed and the tattooer seems now to be the victim. But this is where our understanding becomes buried under the weight of allegory. Seikichi blinds himself. A twisted moment but gripping, courtesy of Rob Halliday’s lighting and Hogara Kawai’s direction. Black blood splatters through a crimson haze.

It is a short piece, and we are invited to stay in the auditorium at interval to watch the ink-brush painter Gaku Azuma paint the back of a newly arrived male model. By the second act he has created a work of art that covers the entire playing space (at the end of the run these should be put up for auction). The newcomer is Nozomi de Lencquesaing, an Englishman who has crossed the oceans to find the ‘legend’ that is Seikichi. A touch superfluous, it nevertheless brings the differing cultures closer together. But even without it, the evening is an authentic taste of Japanese theatre and art that Hoaglund’s translation respects. It may be an acquired taste for many, but it is sharp and refreshing. And mystifying. Kazuyo asks of the now blind tattooer; “Am I in the world I see, or the world you see?” We, too, are never entirely sure whose world we are seeing here. Yet it is an intriguing one. Picturesque and alluring, but too much of an enigma that never really gets under the skin.

THE FORSYTE SAGA at Park Theatre

★★★★★

“flawlessly executed under Josh Roche’s stylish direction that adds a unique clarity to the sweeping story”

THE FORSYTE SAGA at Park Theatre

Reviewed on 19th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mitzi De Margary

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE FORSYTE SAGA

THE FORSYTE SAGA

TATTOOER at the Charing Cross Theatre

★★★

“an authentic taste of Japanese theatre and art that Hoaglund’s translation respects”

TATTOOER at the Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 17th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

Previously reviewed at this venue:

TATTOOER

TATTOOER