Happy Valley’s Third and Final Season Is Crime TV at Its Finest

Sarah Lancashire as Catherine Cawood in Happy Valley.
Sarah Lancashire as Catherine Cawood in Happy Valley.Photo: Lookout Point/AMC/James Stack

It opens in grimness, on an airborne shot of a Yorkshire landscape so clotted with fog and wet and mud that you instantly know you’d rather be anywhere else. The weather alone makes a joke of the title—Happy Valley—but so will the human remains found in a reservoir, the forbidding tower blocks where the police aren’t welcome, the ubiquity of drug use, and finally the criminal in a high-security prison, with the long hair and the feral smile: Tommy Lee Royce, but more on him in a second.

What makes this bleak corner of Yorkshire a place you want to be, what makes Happy Valley a crime drama you’ll need to watch all three seasons of—the third and final of which begins tonight on BBC America, and streams on AMC+ and Acorn TV—is Sergeant Catherine Cawood (Sarah Lancashire), the unfathomably tough police sergeant at the heart of it all. Crime television is littered with damaged, brilliant police officers—Jane Tennison, Jimmy McNulty, Rust Cohle, just to name the three that come quickest to mind—but none of them are as fascinating a paradox as Cawood, an officer so hardened by life and so vulnerable and open-hearted that you don’t know whether to be scared of her or in love in with her (most people are both). She’s nearing retirement at the start of this final season, intending to hike the Himalayas—but no one retires easily in crime television. There’s always a last case.

Sergent Cawood is near retirement at the start of the new season.

Photo: Matt Squire/BBC/AMC

Happy Valley, which is written and directed by the brilliant Sally Wainwright (Last Tango in Halifax, Gentleman Jack) and has a won a haul of BAFTAs in the UK, where this season has already aired to rapturous reviews, stays within certain familiar (some might say comforting) crime conventions. There’s an A plot and a B plot, parallel narratives that twist and braid together over the course of this season’s six episodes. To start with the B: The young wife of a schoolteacher has a diazepam habit that her alpha husband is determined to punish her for. She gets the pills from a neighbor pharmacist, whose upstanding picket-fence family life masks connections to a thuggish drug network. No one in this arrangement is especially sympathetic and no one will be spared the tragedy that unfolds around them.

That B plot ticks along in Happy Valley’s background—but it’s not the main engine of suspense. That would be the combustive relationship between Cawood and Royce, the criminal serving a life sentence for murder and rape. Here we risk stepping into spoiler territory, and my greatest hope is that you’ll begin at the beginning of Happy Valley (seasons one and two are streaming on AMC+ and Acorn) and let its shocks occur as they should. Suffice it to say that Cawood and Royce have history that torments them both, and that the epic arc of this series opens with Cawood’s conviction that Royce was the cause of her daughter’s death and will end with a full reckoning here in season three, with a confrontation between the two that is one of the most memorable climactic moments I’ve ever seen on TV.

James Norton as the insinuating psychopath Tommy Lee Royce

Photo: Lookout Point/AMC/Matt Squire

Royce is played by James Norton, a dashing actor of soigné appeal (McMafia, Grantchester, Little Women). In Happy Valley he plays the kind of insinuating psychopath who seduces the innocent and strikes without warning. The third season sees him continuing to court the interest of his son Ryan (Rhys Connah), who is also Cawood’s grandson, and using him to draw inexorably closer to Cawood herself. Norton and Lancashire are so intensely good in their roles, so full of hate and torment but human at the same time, that you watch them do ordinary things (interrogate a witness, speak to a lawyer) with breathless suspense. It’s been seven years since the last season of Happy Valley, but I would say its new season has arrived at just the right moment. Here is a superlative show coming at a time when the great shows are ending (Succession, Barry) and there’s not that much to compete with it. Draw the blinds, get the subtitle button ready (Yorkshire accents are no joke), and prepare to be swept away.