The Prisoner

(1968)
Most everybody has heard of the late '60's classic English TV show, The Prisoner, which was both the brainchild of and starred Patrick McGoohan. In a long and interesting career, it is fair to say that, despite the fact that other endeavors of his have enjoyed more popular success (Danger Man, for instance), the entire rest of his body of work is overshadowed by these seventeen episodes about a man trapped against his will in a sinisterly idyllic resort town. There's a good reason for that. I just finished, this evening, watching the last few episodes of the series (available in full on VHS and DVD) and at last, thirty-four years after the show premiered, I am able to speak coherently on it. I watched a few episodes in the '70's when my brother was into it, but not enough to form an intelligent opinion. Thanks to the fact that a) our society loves to preserve itself, and b) some things really are worth preserving, we can go back and enjoy some things again and again. The Prisoner has a reputation for being challenging, thoughtful television, and it certainly is that. Most of you are familiar with the premise; a secret agent resigns and is taken prisoner by a sinister force (it's never made clear who) and is placed in a creepy Village, where everyone is a number and individuality is downplayed. They want to crack our hero and find out why he resigned (which he eventually tells us, but very late in the game). The Prisoner is part metaphor, part mental thriller, and above all decidedly and purposely off-kilter. The Village is beautifully but oddly designed; the main villain, designated 'number two', changes each week; and the last line of defense against escapees is a floating, warbling weather balloon known as Rover, which is far more effective a visual than it sounds. Each week our hero, Number Six (McGoohan) matches wits with a new Number Two. Sometimes it is with escape in mind; sometimes it is merely to prove a point. Underneath it all, The Prisoner is far more concerned with social metaphor than anything else. It questions what it means to be an individual, it questions (often) the value of conformity, of obeying the rules heedlessly, it questions science and unbridled progress, and it even challenges the basic notions of freedom itself. The show is ambitious, not just for its own time but even still today, and deserves to be viewed on those merits alone if for no other reason. But there are other reasons, and other lessons. The first twelve episodes are all very strong, slowly building on the basic theme of imprisonment in the Village and the various ways that Number Six rebels against it. There are 'democratic' elections that he subverts to his own ends; there's a living chess game where the notion of personal power is examined; there's an escape episode where not a word is uttered for almost the first thirty minutes; there's an examination between the human brain and the computerized one (you'll chuckle when you see a computer the size of a car). In my favorite episode and I think the strongest of the series, "Hammer Into Anvil," our hero very slyly turns the table on his captors and drives the new Number Two over the edge with an array of tricks and verbal innuendo that are

tremendously clever. And the best part is, he really seems to be enjoying himself while doing so. The last five episodes, however, fall seemingly out of whack. It's as if, having granted Number Six a victory, the makers decided to take a break from the challenging, intelligent formula of the show and wax mundane. First off we get a tired riff on the "mind switching" plot, so someone else can play Number Six for a week (ugh); then we get a metaphoric western that never really comes together, and then we get the nadir of the series, "The Girl Who Was Death," which makes no sense whatsoever and is really poorly done (and not even the attempt at an ubercute ending makes up for it). The last two episodes are written and directed by McGoohan himself, but unfortunately, they do not satisfy. While one could -- and no doubt many have -argued that the powerful metaphor more than makes up for the fact that these two episodes are a shambling mess, it's still a disappointment, after three lackluster episodes, to see us get back on track only to have all of our questions go unanswered. The Prisoner was a series that thrived on metaphor, and usually did so very well; but there is a danger in resorting completely to metaphor, and that's just what McGoohan does in "Fall Out," the series ender, where nothing makes any sense on a literal level at all, and every last thing is a metaphor for something else. Though "Fall Out" would likely go down in television history for no other reason than the unsettling and effective juxtaposition of the Prisoner and his allies busting out of the secret enclave of his enemies, shooting everyone down in a hail of bullets to the tune of "All You Need Is Love", the rest of the episode does not deliver on its admittedly lofty goals. There's a lot to be said for having high ambitions; but make sure that your feet don't leave the earth, or your audience won't be able to ground themselves in anything; without grounding, all you have is an interesting mess. Still, the first twelve episodes are likely among the best television ever shown. The dialogue is witty, crisp, and clever. McGoohan is terrific in the role, and you will find yourself challenged and intellectually stimulated, which you can't say about many shows that have been on since 1967. Just brace yourself for a disappointing and unfulfilling ending, and you'll be fine. December 10, 2001