Hunk of Burning Victorian Love
There are few costume dramas I won’t at least try, and when The Forsyte Saga washed my way, I jumped in while knowing nothing about it. I hadn’t read the book, hadn’t even heard of it; I think the extent of my familiarity was, “Hey, this has that Ioan guy from Horatio Hornblower
!”
I didn’t love Damien Lewis yet. And I definitely didn’t know from the total hotness that is Rupert Graves.
You’ve seen Rupert a billion times. He’s playing Lestrade in Sherlock (regarding which: squee!), he’s been witnesses and suspects and red herrings in a dozen Masterpiece Mystery dramas.
But back in 2003, he was Jolyon Forsyte, the purest, decentest, most honorable, big hearted guy to hit TV since Benton Fraser walked to downtown Chicago from O’Hare with an IOU in his hat and a lazy wolf in his arms.
He’s sweet. He’s kind. He follows his heart. He forgives people. If he were any more in touch with his feelings, they’d have transported poor Jolyon to Australia for just being way too emo for the times. He has woobie moments galore. The only thing wrong with Jolyon, really, is he has no obvious slash interest. The only men worthy of him in this series tend to be squickily close genetic relations.
Rupert, though I could go on about him for awhile yet, and would officially like to invite him over for stew sometime if he’s ever in town, isn’t really the main thrust of The Forsyte Saga, whose core story is a minute dissection of how bad a marriage can be, especially if you had to marry for cash, you’ve picked a complete shitheel and said heel has been cast as Damien Lewis, an actor so talented that were he to fall into a coma, he could probably use his leftover wattage to make you love an unabridged King Lear, translated into Esperanto.
Carrying the can for the Victorian woman who had it bad is Irene Forsyte, née Herron. Irene (pronounced eye reen ee) is this sort of weird picture of gorgeous composure, except when she’s tormented, which is frequently. Also, if your reason for watching costume drama is, like, the costumes, actress Gina McKee has a gift for making every scrap of rag and bustle eye-poppingly droolworthy. All the clothes are great, except poor Ioan Gruffudd‘s (dunno why), but McKee is beyond stunning in these gowns.
Like any good big family saga, The Forsyte Saga covers decades of births, marriages, adulterous romances, outbreaks of Big Historical Events (Boer War, anyone?) last minute changes to wills and, um, architecture. It also has love, love, and more love. Romantic love, parent-child love, friendship love, love of art. Get your love here!
It is also a fundamentally optimistic story. Jolyon, with all his sexy purity of heart, stays decent throughout, but several of the other characters–at least the ones who don’t get mowed down by runaway carriages–are gradually transformed by love into better human beings, in small and yet immensely satisfying ways.
The Forsyte Saga trumpets the merits of honesty over hypocrisy, those of love over blindly following custom, of creativity over material riches and above all the power of forgiveness. It celebrates the length of life. Getting old in this story is an opportunity–a chance to be kinder tomorrow, to release the past and enrich the present and future.
Which all sounds very moral and fable-y and high fiber to boot so I will close by saying that also, it has some dandy sex and violence.

I’ve had a crush on Graves since A Room With a View, when he was adorable Freddie. He shows up in everthign! I look forward to the Saga!
This means that I also will be seeing it, and look forward to all of the smoldering.
I recommend getting your mitts on both parts at once… it’s hard stopping halfway!!
What if it cuts out right when there’s Dandy Sex (and Violence)?
Exactly! (Actually, the first part ends with a massive new crop o’ babies… fodder for teh Dramah of part deux.)
It is *essential* to know that Rupert Graves, when he was a baby-faced young un, played the adorable Freddy Honeychurch (Helena Bonham Carter’s cute brother) in Room with a View.
I also fell in love with this mini-series to the point that I not only read and obsessed over the books, but ended up watching the whole black and white adaptation from the 1960′s as well. Which does not have Rupert Graves but still *sigh* has the lovely Jolyon Forsyte.
Is the 1968 series worth it? I had Grave (harhar) doubts.