Film is Pwn

All right, the Prisoner is not a “film,” but it is one heck of a TV show that can be called monumental, instrumental, and a little mental as well.

Before you understand the premise of the show, let me explain that actor Patrick McGoohan had become a huge TV star in England playing a spy in the TV show Danger Man.  After that show ended, McGoohan developed another show where he not only played a spy, but wrote and directed much of the series, often using pseudonyms. 

The premise of the show is that McGoohan’s spy resigns in a fiery opening sequence done with only music, no dialogue.  The spy packs to leave his home, when he’s gassed and abducted.  The series opens when the spy finds himself in “The Village” – and no, it’s not M. Night Shyamalan’s Village, though the mysterious roving terror cost about as much to produce, but I’ll get to that in a second.
The Village resembles a vacation resort more than a prison, in every respect except that its residents are unable to leave.  The exact location of the Village is a mystery, though it is positioned at one side by an unidentified ocean and at the other by impenetrable mountains.  The inhabitants of the Village are spies, former government officials, and people who know too much to be allowed to live freely.  It’s not clear who runs the Village, whether it’s the Americans, the British, the Soviets, etc.  Everyone in the Village is assigned a number and is not referred to by name; McGoohan’s spy is dubbed Number 6.

Naturally, No. 6 is not receptive to being imprisoned, and attempts to escape whenever possible and cause mischief with his captors.  No. 6’s chief nemesis is Number 2, a position that goes through more regime changes than a French Government.  Number 2 is played by a different actor or actress in almost every episode, sometimes by two in one.  Australian actor Leo McKern is the most memorable Number 2, playing the part in a classic episode (“The Chimes of Big Ben”) and the controversial, two-part finale. 

The Prisoner only ran for 17 episodes, which by today’s standards indicates the show got cancelled after the first season.  This isn’t the case, as McGoohan wanted the show only to run for SEVEN episodes, and had to be convinced to create more episodes to allow the series to be marketed in America.

Watching some episodes (“Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darling”) it’s clear that the producers were treading water, but other episodes are absolute classics.  In “Many Happy Returns,” No. 6 wakes up to find the Village deserted, and we watch him in silence (other than music) investigate the Village, gather supplies, build a raft, and attempt to escape.  The episode goes an unprecedented 20 minutes without a line of dialogue (excluding a brief exchange in German from the gunrunners who pick No. 6 up).

In the episode “Free For All,” a classic political and election parody, where Number 6 has a chance to run for the job of Number 2, he one of my favorite lines of dialogue from any series: “Everybody votes for a dictator.”

Throughout the series, No. 6 is a resourceful, determined protagonist, but his opposition is prepared for him at almost every turn. No. 6 cannot escape, and his captors cannot pry the “information” they seek from No. 6.  When No. 6 gets too far from the Village, a giant bubble arises to subdue the prisoner.  The giant, white bubble has been featured multiple times on the Simpsons, a reference I’m sure most people of my generation completely missed, but I loved every time.

There is a lot of strangeness mixed in even with the overall goodness of the show.  In the first-rate episode “It’s Your Funeral,” there is a bizarre, extended interlude with a game played with two trampolines with a pool of water in between and an overlooking platform, with two competitors bouncing around trying to push each other in.  The game’s players, one of whom is No. 6, have more fun during this sequence than the audience trying to figure out why the scene is included.

Fans of the Prisoner will recognize this classic exchange:

“Who are you?”
“The new number 2.”
“We want information.”
“You won’t get it.”
“By hook or by crook, we will.”
“Who is Number 1?”
“You are(,) Number 6.”
“I am not a number, I am a free man!”

It’s an interesting conversation that takes place during the opening credits that recaps number 6’s arrival in the Village. Of course, it could be the answer to the show, as well. Does Number 2 respond to the question, “Who is Number 1” with “You are Number 6,” ignoring 6’s question with his numeric designation, or is there a coma in the answer, and Number 2 is actually telling Number 6 that he, himself, if Number 1 (“You are, Number 6”?)

(Spoiler warning:) In the extremely bewildering, debate inspiring conclusion to the show, Number 6 unmasks Number 1 as being . . . himself.  One is not sure exactly how to take it.  Is it some sort of twin?  Clone?  An existential statement that we are our own jailers and prisoners in a world of conformity?  Individuality is a recurring theme on the show (“I am not a number,” Number 6 says repeatedly), and McGoohan refused to offer a tidy explanation, because he wanted people to draw their own conclusions.  

A great number of people were upset by the ambiguous, mystifying finale, and legend goes that Patrick McGoohan was so tired of being accosted with questions in the streets of England that he moved to America, where he resides to this day.

Personally, I am fine with the conclusion.  The Prisoner is art in the form of a TV show, which is rare; TV and the artists should be free to express themselves without reprisals. With that said, if current, puzzling TV show Lost were to end with Jack (Matthew Fox) discovering that he is in fact the island’s mysterious master, Jacob, I might be tempted to similarly besiege that show’s creators were I to recognize them on the street, and perhaps drive them to England . . .

The Prisoner is classic television.  I can dust off my DVD collection every year or two and become totally engrossed, appreciating the show for reasons I never caught or comprehended each previous viewing.  This isn’t just another TV show, it’s a masterpiece.

–Daniel J. Roos