A while ago, it might have felt like the Baftas didn’t really need to put on a big awards ceremony this year. That isn’t because shows like this are becoming less and less relevant with every passing year, but because of Happy Valley.
Every single thing about the third series of Happy Valley was blisteringly impressive. The writing was note-perfect; able to puncture moments of colossal tension with a warm turn of phrase. The performances, too, were about as good as you can get across the board. Even the idea of the series – patiently waiting for seven years before returning, so that Rhys Connah could naturally age into the role Sally Wainwright wanted to tell – was extraordinary. Happy Valley felt so far ahead of the pack that unanimous victory seemed certain. They could have just mailed a crate of trophies to Sarah Lancashire’s house and saved money on the ceremony.
