Sally Wainwright’s Happy Valley is a complete overhaul of the police drama. It is as every bit the hardboiled detective story as a James Pattison novel, but trades the typical chiselled, fedora toting detective for a Yorkshire grandmother. Wainwright has successfully brought noir to Yorkshire in a way that is both refreshingly original and extremely entertaining.
From the drop, it has one of the best opening scenes I’ve ever seen. Catherine Cawood keeps perfectly composed, with an air of frustrated boredom as she picks up a fire extinguisher and a pair of sunglasses from a corner shop on her way to respond to a drunken young lad threatening to set himself on fire in the park. The scene neatly presents the protagonist, setting and themes with perfectly disguised exposition and a dash of dry humour. Wainwright doesn’t let up from there, and the same level of skill is evident in her handling of every scene, supported by a genuine masterclass in acting from Sarah Lancashire. With supporting actors Siobhan Finneran and James Norton, the acting is on a high level across the board.
Each season of Happy Valley follows a similar structure. Catherine wages a cold war over her grandson Ryan with the villainous Tommy-Lee Royce, which runs parallel to compelling side stories of crime and corruption in the local community. These parallel narratives always follow similar themes; a sympathetic character committing heinous crimes despite their better nature, due to ambition or blackmail. In the first season, this is Kevin Weatherill who initiates the kidnapping of his boss’s daughter out of feelings of envy and inadequacy, but soon regrets his actions and gets stuck in over his head. The second season has DI John Wadsworth, who’s illicit affair makes him the victim of a vicious blackmail attempt. These stories interweave with the main narrative in ways equally intricate and disastrous, and it is usually here that the drama in Happy Valley is at its richest. The exception to this is in the final season. Joanne Hepworth’s murder and the framing of her husband by otherwise meek Faisal Bhatti is just as gripping a side narrative as the previous two seasons, but it doesn’t marry to the main plot as well. This time, it felt unfinished, eclipsed by the conclusion to the Tommy Lee Royce saga.
The accents, dialect and behaviour of every character bring the setting and the story to life.
The story in season three hinges upon betrayal. Clare and Neil have been taking Ryan to visit his father Tommy in prison behind Catherine’s back. Catherine follows them to Sheffield and catches Clare in her lies during a tense confrontation in a coffee shop. Catherine cannot respect her rational of allowing Ryan the freedom to make up his own mind and hoping for some goodness within Tommy. The scene is masterful in its portrayal of Clare as too considerate, to the point of naivety and weakness, and Catherine as hardened beyond return by everything that has happened to her. As a viewer I felt frustrated at both of them, and their inability to understand the other. It’s the perfect example of a good problem creating a good plot.
The determined grit inherent in Catherine is on display in her relationship with every other character. She’s tough on Ryan, Neil and Ann, and almost hostile towards Joyce while she tries to plan her retirement party. Although often for good reason, some of these characters are extremely likeable and their actions are always well intentioned. Catherine’s treatment of almost everyone around her feels unfair, and made me begin to dislike her. This is not a problem, but it set up the expectation of some form of reconciliation that never really came.
Catherine's tough exterior never thaws, and she is absolute in her position to the end. In a dramatic final standoff with Tommy that takes place at the kitchen table in her house, Tommy has a small but significant redemption moment. He accepts that Catherine is the best parent figure for Ryan. This is a crucial moment as it finally allows Tommy Lee Royce some depth. Throughout the three series, we are presented with an antagonist who is plain evil. He’s a career criminal, murderer and master manipulator completely devoid of remorse. But now we see a tiny amount of empathy within him. Granted, he's already taken a fatal overdose and is resigned to his death at this point, but the line allows us a glimpse of the other route Tommy could have taken, the person he could have been had his circumstances been different, perhaps. It allowed me to feel momentarily sorry for him. I would have liked to have seen this change in attitude towards Tommy reflected in Catherine too. I could not have expected Catherine to forgive Tommy, given all he has done to her, but there was room for her to see him as pathetic, or tragic in the end, and I don’t think that was empathised enough. To allow Catherine to soften just slightly and to perceive Tommy as something other than simply contemptable would have represented a step towards letting go of all of the hatred, anger and grief that has consumed her since the death of her daughter. But in the end, it is only Tommy’s death that can bring Catherine any peace. She receives a text “TLR dead”, from her ex-husband while she visits her daughters grave, and she simply smiles and walks away. Catherine doesn’t grow, she just gets what she wants. It’s not an unsatisfying ending, but it’s absolute, and I think there was an opportunity for a more nuanced conclusion.
I felt robbed of some catharsis by the lack of conclusion some of the supporting characters were given.
The final episode aired at an hour and ten minutes, an ‘extended’ episode for the finale. The extension was an extra ten minutes, and I was left wondering why the producers didn’t round it up to an hour and a half. An extra twenty minutes would have been enough to adequately wrap up the side narrative of Faisel and the Hepworth murder, and maybe show us Ryan and Ann’s reaction to Tommy’s demise. They were both integral in the story as victims, and their relevance felt under emphasised. I would have liked to see some kind of reconciliation between Catherine and her family members. The ending felt premature, and Catherine simply getting what she wanted in Tommy’s death seemed to suggest that none of the other characters really mattered. I felt robbed of some catharsis by the lack of conclusion some of the supporting characters were given. I wonder if this was a conscious decision by the writers, or were they restricted by time allowance in some ways? Did they just run out of time?
Happy Valley is everything I want from a drama and has really set the bar for the BBC going forward. Every aspect is well executed, but for me its true strength is in its relationship to it’s setting. It is consistently true to Yorkshire. The accents, dialect and behaviour of every character bring the setting and the story to life. The scenes with Catherine and Clare, sitting outside after work with a cup of tea, maybe a cigarette, stand out as especially good examples. Their dialogue is so organic and well crafted, their characters so believable. It is the sum of great writing and great acting, and it has brought us a refreshing and truly original story.
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