The Prisoner

The Prisoner

A sci-fi series that aired on BBC in 1967 and CBS in 1968.

The Set-Up: A newly retired secret agent is kidnapped and finds himself in . . . “The Village.” The Village is a community of brainwashed citizens who go only by numbers. Number Six, our hero, remains a holdout to the various techniques designed to break his rebellious spirit. His primary foe: an ever-revolving chain of Number Twos. Each Number 2 has a degree in mindfuckery. If anyone swims too far into the ocean, or wanders too far into the woods, “Rover” is unleashed. Rover is a giant white, screaming ball that bounces through the streets and suffocates those who break the rules. Some citizens of the Village are friends. Some are foes. And Number Six himself is unsure if the Village is “ours” or “theirs.”

Typical episode: A three-minute opening sequence lays out the plot – revealing the kidnapping and some typical esoteric dialogue between Number Six and the New Number Two.

Number Six wakes up in the morning and paces furiously around his apartment. Number Two watches from a surveillance room where two men on a rotating seesaw stare silently into black boxes. Number Two reports to someone on a clunky cordless phone while his faithful but mute dwarf butler pours tea. A deception is put into action. Someone contacts Number Six. He assumes they are a foe. Number Six then concocts his own plan and disrupts the establishment as best he can.

In the end, Six’s disembodied head flies at the camera and is prevented from bouncing into my living room thanks to some carefully timed bars slamming shut on the screen.

The style: Danger Man plus The Fugitive divided by Lost times Looney Tunes. Or Fantasy Island gang-raped by Dr. Strangelove and The Twilight Zone. Or perhaps The Smurfs through Grouchy Smurf’s eyes.

Typical Dialogue: “I will not make any deals with you. I've resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own. I resign.”

More Dialogue: “The mountain can come to Muhammad.”

Typical Village Propaganda: “Questions are a burden to others. Answers a prison for oneself.”

Most Spoken Dialogue: “Be seeing you.”

My favorite episodes:

• “The Arrival” McGoohan wakes up in the Village. Number Two shows him around. He sees the creepy big white screaming ball that suffocates people. The bizarre, offbeat style and twisted sense of humor are established immediately. Every ally he comes across is most likely working against him. He is completely on his own. This show is the ultimate in paranoia, isolation, anti-authoritarianism, misanthropy and off-the-wall weirdness.
  
• “The Chimes of Big Ben” One of the more sadistic episodes. Perhaps the closest the bad guys get to ascertaining what they need from Number Six. This episode drives home that he can trust no one. When Number Six catches onto their scheme and limps away – having been dealt a crippling blow – is one of my favorite moments.
  
• “A, B, and C” Number Six is really starting to get the better of those in charge at the Village. Another of my favorite moments: when Two watches the doors open on the monitor, and the camera pans to the same door – expecting Six to walk through. Trippy, man.
  
• “It’s Your Funeral” The first sign of dissention in the ranks. Some actual suspense. And Kosho, that weird sport with the water tank and the trampolines.
  
• “A Change of Mind” Six is declared “unmutual” and “disharmonious.” This particular mind fuck is more commonly called the silent treatment. And getting the shit beat out of you. There’s a room just like Room 23 on LOST. This episode celebrates misanthropy.
  
• “Hammer into Anvil” Six gets his own degree in mindfuckology. And I do believe he’s been studying under Bugs Bunny.
  
• “Living in Harmony” This show is so goddamned weird. At this point, you have to go along with it. A western? Sure, why not? This episode did not air in the U.S. supposedly because of the drug use. But there is a persistent theory that the pacifist message of the episode (during the Vietnam war no less) was the real reason it was pulled. After all, it’s hardly the only drug-fueled episode. Bonus: McGoohan runs really funny.
  
• “The Girl Who Was Death” The missile is the lighthouse itself!
  
• “Once Upon a Time” Sample dialogue from this episode: “Pop goes the weasel” “Pop.” “Pop.” “Pop.” “Pop, Pop.” “Pop, Pop, Pop.” “Pop. Pop. Pop.” “Pop Protect.” “Protect?” “Protect Pop.” “Pop.” “Protect other people.” “Protect other . . .” “People’s own protection.” “Protect other pop.” “Protect other people!” “Why?” “Pop” “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” “Pop” This exchange has been shortened for your sanity. The whole episode is like this. Who writes this? It’s like watching some drug-induced lunatic’s therapy. Awesome.
  
• “Fall Out” The cinematically insane New Wave techniques of sixties filmmaking makes its way to British television. Now *this* is rebellion. An absolutely ludicrous set-up with little to no real-world logic. The conversations run in circles. Characters break into songs. The masked jury/assembly breaks into dance. “Give it to me, man! Give it to me!” It’s the Marx Brothers on acid. The “judge” even gives a speech evaluating the different kinds of rebellion. “Revolt can take many forms . . .” “Youth rebels against an accepted norm because it must . . .” And finally, “revolt contributes nothing to our culture and must be stamped out.” The assembly caters to Number Six in another effort to break him. They concede that he is a true rebel, but they don’t plan to truly let his rebellious nature win out. Machine guns blaring to the sound of “All You Need is Love.” (How much did the music rights for this DVD set cost!?)  No answers are given to the mysteries inherent in the show. Only allegorical insanity. No preachiness (because there is no real-world conceits being rebelled against). Anarchy!
  

Least Favorite:

• “Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling” An information-heavy episode, but without Patrick McGoohan. Lame. Half clip show. Half contrived suck-ass.
  

How many episodes were produced? 17. According to one website, the only show with only 17 episodes. I doubt that.

Is there much continuity? Not really. The show even acknowledges this in its structure. A different actor plays Number Two in nearly every episode. And even when Six seems to find a reliable ally, they never appear again.

The rules for the Village change from episode to episode. An election for Number Two takes place early on, but later, the position seems to be appointed. Sometimes there’s a curfew, sometimes not so much. This can all be conveniently explained through the mysterious nature of the Village.

There are three possible locations that Six determines for the Village – all in completely different places. Actors playing one part will often show up later playing a different role. A common practice before IMDB or DVD. That particular suspension of disbelief is rarely practiced these days without fancy wigs to disguise the actors (see Deadwood and Veronica Mars).

Despite this, the viewing order as determined by the DVD set very much follows a clear line of character development. Early, Number Six encounters failure after failure. Unable to escape the Village and remaining a step behind Number Two. Initially, Six takes the direct approach in attempting to ascertain information from his captors. By the end of the series, he is regularly undermining the administration – even if he isn’t escaping. He is bringing them down from the inside. The episodes also grow steadily stranger in this viewing order.

Why was it canceled? The stories abound. According to most reports, McGoohan only wanted to make seven or eight episodes in the first place. The network wanted 26. 17 was the compromise.

Was there closure? Yes and no. The ending is completely intentional. However, rather than answering key questions, the show ultimately tosses those questions out the window and breaks down into a mass of insane anti-narrative.

Any unattended issues: Legions of fans thought so. McGoohan famously had to disappear to avoid the threats and complaints from fans who felt they had been ripped off by the series finale, a notoriously controversial episode. I, on the other hand, fully appreciate the bizarre non-sequitor ending.

According to Wikipedia, co-creator George Markstein envisioned a different ending. One with an actual explanation. There was no mention of why Markstein relented to MGoohan’s nuttiness.

The verdict: One of my favorites. Despite numerous attempts to rip off the series, The Prisoner remains unique. The plots are barely comprehendible at times. The style is absolutely of its era. And the dialogue is baffling. Without McGoohan’s inspired performance, the show would crumble under its own lunacy.

There is a common theory that Number Six is the same character McGoohan played in Danger Man. The weakest argument for this theory is Number Two’s referring to Six as “Drake,” his character’s name from Danger Man. However, most agree that Two says “break” rather than “Drake.” The best argument involves Christopher Benjamin portraying a character named Potter in both Danger Man and The Prisoner. McGoohan expressly claims they are not the same character despite this.

There is a calculated misanthropy to the series. It is anti-authoritarian. Pro-individual. Anti-community. Even McGoohan’s most genial greetings reek of disdain. I love it for its anger, black sense of humor, and general weirdness.

Recently, there have been rumblings of an update. BBC tried to revive the series. And Christopher Nolan has routinely expressed interest in making a feature film. If they ever do make a movie, I hope they consider casting Pierce Brosnan because a) he would be ideal at the smirking nonchalant style required, and b) it would be fun to speculate that double-o-seven had been taken down a notch to number six.