Following on from the excellent 'Remembrance of the Daleks', 'The Happiness Patrol' features Sylvester McCoy still on top form, and the Doctor here has too many good lines to list. One glorious moment sees him turning the questions back on the questioner, Trevor Sigma, while another is his confrontation with two guards (a classic Who moment). There are many more good moments, and only two lapses into bad-McCoy territory: the first, at the end of episode one, where McCoy really doesn't manage to pull off a plausible reaction to the Kandy Man's threat; and the second, a moment where he tries to sing the blues, and just looks silly. The latter, however, is saved by the context of the scene, where atmospheric and subtle support is given by Richard D. Sharp, playing Earl Sigma, a wandering medical student, who happens to be an ace player of the blues harmonica.

The score of 'The Happiness Patrol' is, of course, one its very best traits. Layered on top of the usual incidental music is a carefully judged combination of blues guitar and harmonica playing. In tune with the score is the set design, mixing together (with no lack of irony) the hard-edged industrial paintings of Fernand Leger, imagery from Lang's 'Metropolis', and the colour pallete of a children's sweet packet. Of course, as we know, good set design in 1980s Doctor Who stories was often ruined by boring, flat lighting. Pleasingly, that is not the case here. Moody and atmospheric film-noir (albeit full-colour-film-noir) lighting of the street and pipe scenes makes for one of the best looking Doctor Who stories ever made. One of the scenes to benefit vastly is the cliff-hanger to episode two. From a shot of a member of the happiness painting 'RIP' (in pink) onto an execution poster, the camera slowly pans to focus on the Doctor, eyes in shadow, looking part-anxious, part-highly-dangerous toppler of evil regimes; the shot is held for a second or two, and then the music surges in. A cliff-hanger to beat all cliff-hangers. 

Watching 'The Happiness Patrol' now, almost 15 years after it was originally broadcast, what stands out is the cleverness of it all. The evidence indicates that a lot of work, on several levels, went into constructing a story often accused of being poorly made and tacky. It may have had a low budget, but it doesn't suffer from it; and any 'tackiness' is clearly ironic, working within the context of the narrative. There are occasional moments when a detail of the production makes you wonder if they couldn't have thought things through a bit more, and occasionally the editing is over-zealous, cutting a scene a little too short, and lessening the effect of a punchline or a dramatic speech. But these are minor problems, and they do little to spoil the enjoyment of a thoroughly ambitious and engaging Doctor Who serial.

The story's opening is beautifully dark, with a suitably disturbing introduction to one of the Doctor's boldest stories. The period of the story is set efficiently, and the introduction of the Doctor and Ace shows off the wonderful rapport that has developed between both the characters and the actors. The Doctor's line, 'It's a surprise,' in reference to the reason for their visit, seems almost cruel on a repeated viewing, evidence of the Doctor's evolution, an overall theme of the story, into someone, or something, darker; less predictable.

The Doctor and Ace seem to 'slide' into the story, and are almost too readily accepted with no question from the players, but this ultimately only reinforces the themes developed later in the story and is typical of the show's era. The introduction of Nimrod is our first true sign that all is not as it should be, besides the glowing purple eyes which merely softened the impact without ever being adequately explained. Despite events spiralling dangerously, the Doctor now takes an admirable degree of control over the situation. It is perhaps of no coincidence that a character by that very name appears later in the story. The character of Josiah Smith,though, is a truly wonderful creation of style, with his shades, dust and white gloves, combined with substance, in his references to the moth's need to evolve due to industrial influence, again introducing the theme of evolution.

The story feels as if a great debt is owed to 'Sapphire and Steel' in as much as it feels wonderfully claustrophobic, and not least for the shots of Redvers strapped into a straightjacket whilst light pours from the snuffbox. The scripting also shines, as shown in the exchange between Ace and the Doctor as the girl realises that her protector has deceived her; but it is the Doctor's revelation that he loathes bus stations, unrequited love, cruelty and tyranny that simply explains the Doctor for who he is.

The story is filmed with a certain flair including some beautiful juxtaposition of imagery, such as the Reverend being drugged whilst Josiah's niece plays the piano, for example; the song predicting the Reverend's final fate.

There follows an example of one this era's laudable 'reality slaps', where Ace reveals how her friend's flat was firebombed, causing Ace to no longer care. Beside being dramatic and anchoring the fantastic in a harsh reality, these references served the writers of Virgin's 'New Adventures' extraordinarily well. 

Of pure joy is the knowing line, 'Oh don't worry, I always leave things to the last moment.' It serves not only as a reference to the way the Doctor always appeared to deal with the problem in 'the nick of time', but also emphasises the way the Doctor has again taken control of the situation. This becomes a recurring theme in this era, introducing the concept of the Doctor as a controller, rather than simply being caught up in a chain of events. It is something of a shame that McCoy's earlier stories put so many viewers off 'Doctor Who' , resulting in many people not witnessing the show's gradual transformation into something darker, more adult; a show beginning to show itself more than worthy of tackling the concerns of the final part of the millennium.

The introduction of the Policeman quietly emphasises the Doctor's power and also carries an echo of characters from earlier Victorian stories in his true old-fashioned perspective, along with the racist attitudes.

The Doctor reminds us of two things with his line, 'You must excuse me, things are getting out of control'; that he does exert some form of control over the proceedings but that his control is not perfect. This has the effect of disquieting the viewer and adds to the reinvented mysterious nature the Doctor has been acquiring, as events spiral out of control once more. The disturbing concept of the Doctor directly meddling and then losing control is never more emphasised than when Light casually destroys the maid under Josiah's control.

We learn more of Ace's past as her character is fleshed out further, just before a delightfully creepy yet somewhat kitsch sequence which leads to an equally delightful mid-episode cliffhanger as the now darkened Gwen takes advantage of Ace's momentary weakness. The following action sequences admittedly let the story down, but to err is to leave one wanting more. There is a wonderful nod to the now late Douglas Adams, as the Doctor, and the script, regain control, culminating in the excising of Ace's ghosts.