Classic Doctor Who - Season 25 - The Happiness Patrol (1988) - Review

Starring: Sylvester McCoy, Sophie Aldred, Sheila Hancock & Lesley Dunlop

Written By: Graeme Curry

Directed By: Chris Clough



If there's ever an argument about the decline of Doctor Who in the late 1980s, The Happiness Patrol probably embodies everything that went wrong with the show. If you ever watch a documentary about why Doctor Who was cancelled in 1989, you can guarantee that at some point, there'll be footage of The Happiness Patrol playing in the background, or more specifically, footage of what many consider to be the poorest Doctor Who villain ever created – the Kandyman. But do fans let their disdain for this story run away with them, and is there anything salvageable to be found here?

 

The Doctor and Ace arrive on Terra Alpha, a planet of which the Doctor has heard disturbing rumours. Right away, the Doctor and Ace sense something is wrong – the planet is too colourful, it's too happy, and there's not one bit of sadness to be found. The two soon discover the sinister truth – to be unhappy is illegal. Anyone discovered unhappy faces the punishment of the Happiness Patrol and will face execution, often at the hands of the Kandyman...

 

Now if there's one thing I can say for The Happiness Patrol, it's that on some level, it can be a case of not judging something by how it looks. Believe it or not, The Happiness Patrol does function as quite a strong political allegory. This story was made in 1988, and its clearly a product of its time, and while its ideas about happiness still resonate today, its political messages are more exclusive to its time. For example, colony leader Helen A's enduring belief that happiness will prevail, relentlessly hunting down “killjoys” and later acting oblivious to the crumbling world around her all reflect a lot on Britain's political atmosphere in the 1980s. The same applies to the story's depictions of popular protests, a whole race being forced to live in the pipes underneath the city, Trevor Sigma constantly asking questions for a census, and even the idea about there being no prisons, only “waiting zones”.

 

Another of this story's strengths can be found in its supporting cast, with the standout performance easily belonging to Sheila Hancock as Helen A. It's clear that Sheila Hancock took a lot of inspiration from then-Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher (as does a lot of this story), and her character is all the better for it. Sheila Hancock does seem to be enjoying herself in the role and she certainly brings an unsettling air about the character. There are times though where the script does let her down, particularly when it comes to an unintentionally funny relationship between her and her pet Fifi, which only turns into something meaningful in the closing moments of the story. However, when it comes to the moments where Helen A has to address the people around her or speak on the television, her character gets the chance to shine and the Thatcher influence becomes even clearer.

 

Someone else who plays to their strengths in this story is Sylvester McCoy's Doctor, and he continues to improve from his previous series. As we saw last time in Remembrance Of The Daleks, Sylvester McCoy's Doctor has definitely stabilized and improved following the end of Season 24. No longer is this Doctor a clown, and he is instead a man of mystery once more. Among all the rampant silliness in this story, Sylvester McCoy gets some of its best moments, such as explaining the importance of sadness existing side by side with happiness to Helen A. He also gets the absolute highlight of this story, which also acts as his best and definitive moment as the Doctor, and that is when he talks to the snipers on the roof. I don't want to spoil it too much, but I would sum it up best as a perfect scene in a sea of mediocrity. The scene in question is just perfection – stunningly executed, with lines delivered flawlessly by Sylvester McCoy.

 

By this point, I'm running low on positive things to say about The Happiness Patrol, but I think I've still got one more. As I'll soon explain, the presentation of this story is what really lets it down, but I've still got to praise the valiant attempts of the production team at creating the world of Terra Alpha. Even with the restrictions brought about by the filming studio, its still a worthy attempt at recreating the different streets, “waiting zones” and execution areas. Later episodes even make use of a whole system of pipes running underneath the city, and even though this story is a bit of a colourful mess, it at least feels like an organized colourful mess.

 

But I've avoided the elephant in the room long enough... let's talk about the Kandyman. For better or worse, the Kandyman is easily the most memorable thing about this story, but as far as I'm concerned … you can argue all you want that the Kandyman is sinister or creepy, but it's not, it's just laughably bad. The Kandyman is embarrassing to the point where it looks as though Bertie Basset has had a bad day, and on no level in this story does the Kandyman work. I applaud the idea behind it, and if done better, it could have been legitimately scary, and writer Graeme Curry probably never envisioned what we finally got as the Kandyman, but the result is just... no. The Kandyman's voice isn't creepy, it just sounds like a child having a tantrum, and how to defeat it? Lemonade. Just stick it to the floor with lemonade! Even when not stuck to the floor, it's clear that the actor inside is having a nightmare trying to move about. Everything the Kandyman does just makes me unintentionally laugh, such as when we learn he apparently has a “soft side”, or strangely enough, simply when it just answers the phone and says “Kandyman”.

 

It's not just the Kandyman though, as the presentation of this episode fails on almost every level. Not only do we have an angry Bertie Basset, we have women with bright pink hair and giant water guns going around ensuring happiness, as well as people being executed with the Kandyman's “Fondant Surprise”. Now, the idea of being drowned in toxic strawberry fondant could have really worked and it did look pretty good when travelling through the pipes and at one point, killing a “killjoy”. But when it's announced that someone is going to die with “Fondant Surprise”, and in such a hilariously exaggerated way that it feels like something from a Carry On film, it's hard to take it seriously. If anything, these sorts of things are annoying as this story knows it has interesting ideas about happiness, but things like this make it impossible for it to be taken seriously.

 

Whenever I think of The Happiness Patrol, it always leaves me with conflicting feelings. On the one hand, I like it and I applaud its political themes and ideas about happiness: “'I told them to be happy' 'Happiness is nothing unless it exists side by side with sadness'”, not to mention Sylvester McCoy's defining moment as the Doctor when talking to the snipers. But on the other hand, I'm reminded of the awful presentation it has to sift through, such as the pink-haired water-gun wielding Happiness Patrol and the Kandyman with his “Fondant Surprise”. Both of these things should have been really great and creepy, but sadly weren't. The overall result is something that's just strangely watchable.

The Happiness Patrol
 

6/10