It wasnt long after I entered fully into fandom that I developed the uneasy feeling that no-one likes the Happiness Patrol. In my experience, most Who fans over 25 seem to avoid talking about it in the vain hope that it will go away of its own accord. I, on the other hand, am a big fan of the story; its not my favourite, but it comes from my favourite era, one which I feel contains more originality than almost all of what went before.
The critical acclaim heaped on reference books such as Doctor Who: The Sixties et al, shows just how much Doctor Who is a cultural icon. The history of the program not only charts the many changing trends in television production over a thirty year period, but also the changing culture of Britain from the sixties to the nineties. The series diminished popularity during the eighties requires some thought to explain precisely why it failed to maintain the hold it once had over the nation.
Inevitably, a reduced rating is largely seen to be the fault of those in charge at the time; the ratings dropped, therefore the series quality had dropped. What this fails to take into account is that a series can still be hugely popular even when its standards are dropping and it loses any originality it once had. At the risk of being shouted at in the street more than usual, I would indicate the X-Files as the most obvious example of this.
The widely held belief that Star Wars killed Doctor Who doesnt hold water (even though clichés exist because they usually work). Although Doctor Whos special and visual effects could not hope to compete with the might of ILMs effects workshop, the series was at its most popular in the years following the films release. It would be a more accurate explanation to say that the increasing affordability of video recorders, and the successful introduction of home computers proved to be the most significant nail in Doctor Whos coffin. Previously the public had been content to watch a familiar series because there was nothing else to do. Suddenly, with new entertainments and a new channel appearing, Doctor Who was looking old and tired.
At this time, more than ever before, the programme needed a completely new identity. It bravely struggled on for a while and occasionally attempted to grow up with its audience, Vengeance on Varos being a good example of the latter. This effort, along with the series harsher tone, was instantly slapped down by those vocal few who seem ever determined to categorise Doctor Who as a childrens show. The Trial of a Time Lord season which followed was the most bland and uninspiring offering for years. When that was over the series gained a new Doctor, new writers, and a new script editor. Its last chance had come to create a new identity for itself, and did so by breaking with its own traditions.
The new focus for Doctor Who was on comic book fantasy, inspired by Andrew Cartmels love of comics such as Neil Gaimans Sandman stories. Central to this new style is the new darker Doctor. Like the comics of the time, Doctor Who tried to return its central character to being the man of mystery. This is in line with graphic novels like the Dark Knight Returns - not in itself a rewriting of the Batman myth but simply reverting to the character featured in Bob Kanes original Detective Comics strip.
Drawing on this revived genre, the McCoy era parallels the trend towards literary comic strips, which tended to borrow heavily from dark horror and epic fantasy genres, and were laced with a knowing black humour. The new era would borrow from Lovecraft and Stoker, Norse mythology and Arthurian Legend; a richer mix than the usual toned down Hammer stories and the clichéd pagan themes which were so frequently overused.
As a result of these influences, the McCoy era is one of extremes. Before this the series had been formulaic, constructed like Mills and Boon novels, with writers filling in the blanks in a standardised format. Occasionally stories like Logopolis pushed the format towards true science fiction; but always the series returned to run of the mill adventure yarns. The McCoy era has no such stability. Indeed, its sheer variety is what makes it special.
The bucking of all the series conventions succeeded in alienating those fans who had grown up with the traditional style. They were no longer being pandered to by the production office and thus it was no longer their series any more. They hated it and criticised it, burying it for good. They would have been happier if Doctor Who had died completely before this change took place. At least then it would have been the same series. Conversely it is this which made one pre-teen youngster I know well start watching avidly.
The Happiness Patrol is probably the most extreme and vilified of all McCoy stories. One of the most conceptual in the series history, there are no subtle meanings buried in the plot. Instead the meaning of the story is the plot; it is every individuals right to be what they want, and not to have to pretend to be something else. Dissatisfaction with capitalism and conservatism, the toppling of minor dictatorships in the east, and the increasing visibility of gays and lesbians are all topics which contributed to the most overt social comment the series has ever made. Whilst the many differing styles of the series have always been affected by cultural influences, The Happiness Patrol is entirely a product of its time in a way that no other Doctor Who story has ever been.
If truth be told, the sociological influences are almost the undoing of the story. Critics and devotees of the story alike frequently overemphasise the gay liberation tone, in a way which doesnt endear it to homophobes at all. The story actually talks about conformity versus individuality, and the right to freedom of expression. These concepts are painted in broad brush strokes, leaving the viewer to work at filling in the fine detail according to their own tastes. In an article for the fanzine Skaro, Matthew Jones was able to prove, quite convincingly, that the story is a comment on gay rights, but, given enough space, and an indulgent editor, I could easily twist the serial into an allegory of hardcore fundamentalism and traditional Catholicism in the Church of England.
The beauty of the Happiness Patrol is that you can adjust it to fit any socio-political argument you want. To tackle so many issues without ever stopping to explain who is right or wrong is quite an achievement. The characters are involved in an adventure, battling a dictatorship whilst it is we, the viewers, who become aware of the real issues at stake. If this was Star Trek, the characters would have had a major road-to-Damascus style conversion, spoon feeding the audience with American style morals so they dont have to think for themselves.
Of course, the reason that it doesnt preach about right or wrong is because the story isnt quite as clear cut as all that. It actively questions its own concepts to raise serious doubts about the alternative society it would at first seem to idealise: Priscilla P, herself a member of the Happiness Patrol is able to be exactly what she wants to be: a hardened killer, something which gives her no small degree of satisfaction. I was good at my job. It raises an interesting dilemma for those who seek freedom and equality for all. If you must allow people to be themselves, what happens to those who exhibit more unsocial tendencies as a part of their freedom of expression? It would seem that there must always be limits, for the good of the majority.
Interestingly, the story is brave enough to be apparently inconsistent in order to re-enforce the plot. The ticket seller is thoroughly miserable, but gets away with it because he is an authority figure himself. Silas Ps enterprise is encouraged until he becomes a threat and then for him the law is adhered to frighteningly quickly. Even the patrol themselves dont really care who they shoot at as long as they have power, nothing giving a feeling of power so much as deposing your own commander (perhaps Mrs Thatcher should have taken this story as a warning of things to come). What would initially appear to be inconsistencies are in fact important plot points, driven entirely by a cynical suspicion about the workings of the state, again a product of the attitudes of contemporary society.
The hugely over the top villains are another source of complaint for many. These, however, are quite refreshing in an age where severely underplayed characters like Mulder and Scully make for such boring viewing. Helen A is Doctor Whos first real stab at political comment, far from the feeble satire of the Sunmakers, poking fun at Mrs Thatcher and the enterprise culture she begat. The Kandyman is a believable instrument of the state: both a sadistic torturer, presumably enjoying his job, and a put upon lackey. One minute he is a real threat, the next he is doing something as banal as answering the phone like a frustrated clerical officer, although we can never inject as much venom into this simple act as he does, mores the pity.
Ultimately the extremism of the fantasy makes this story hugely inaccessible for those without the imagination essential to its enjoyment. If you cant reconcile your view that this is drama with what you see before you then you are doomed. The design work emphasises the point of the story: it is a facade, one which could fall down at any moment. In keeping with the original intention to direct the story as a film noire, the set design is hugely reminiscent of the streets of turn of the century Paris, a fashionably extravagant time with extremely seedy undertones.
It could be argued that the tendency to mock itself is what lost any dramatic edge that the series may have once had, but it is extremely engaging. You are being drawn into the pretence, not as an impressionable youngster suspending disbelief, but as a cynical viewer used to behind-the-scenes documentaries shattering the myths of television. Embracing cliché whilst gently mocking it never harmed the comic industry, and is arguably why so many adults still read comics. (Our esteemed editor still loves the Beano.)
The Happiness Patrol also features one of Doctor Whos greatest scenes, one that sums up the whole ethos of the show, despite its differing styles over the years. In a beautifully played vignette McCoy contains his righteous anger and, with the calm quiet voice of reason, persuades two snipers to throw away their guns. Moments like that are rare in any series and should be savoured. It shows the Doctor at his most self controlled and dignified, and wipes the floor with the panicky self doubt which riddles the Do I have the right? speech from Genesis of the Daleks.
Equally well defined is the scene in front of the forum where, despite some dreadful overacting, an interesting dichotomy is presented: all the killjoys are conforming, actively repressing themselves despite the fact that it goes against everything they hold dear. The power of this scene lies in the concept it represents: rebellion through submission. It parallels the way the gay community has absorbed once-derogatory terms such as queer and poof into its culture, and the way that some black subcultures use the term nigger freely. By doing this they are taking away the very power that others have other them. It leaves the Patrol powerless to do anything, albeit for a brief moment, but it works for long enough to ease the immediate threat. It is a scene which sums up the whole ethos of the story: powerful concepts, bravely presented as a bit of fun.
Ultimately, what is most interesting about the Happiness Patrol is that, like the Greatest Show in the Galaxy, it is a story with a comment about the series itself. With these stories the production team began to reassess what Doctor Who could do. By attempting to capitalise on its limitations they found that there was room for a great deal of variety, originality and fun.
Perhaps it is too original; it would appear that most of the general public and the fans completely missed the point, and still do to this day. This, however, is not because the story is at fault, but because they refused to meet it on its own terms, instead assessing it with their own preconceptions. Ignorance is no excuse for the lambasting this story has received. The Happiness Patrol is Doctor Whos most brave and challenging piece of television yet, and one which shocked fandom to its roots, an act which is never a bad thing. In an era in which free interpretations of texts are encouraged on the stage, frequently pardoned in the name of art, it is time the old guard of fans woke up and became a little more charitable.
Article Text © 1998/2003 the respective author(s). All other text © Rob Morris / SAD Magazine. Design © Rob Morris 1999/2003. No reproduction of material in whole or in part may be undertaken without permission of the copyright holders.