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If a top-level spy decided he didn't want to be a spy anymore, could he just walk into HQ and hand in his resignation? With all that classified knowledge in his head, would they let him become a civilian again? The answer, according to the 1960s British TV series The Prisoner, is no. In fact, instead of receiving a gold watch for his years of faithful service, our hero (played by Patrick McGoohan) is followed home and knocked unconscious. When he awakens, he finds himself in a picturesque village where everyone is known by number. But where is it? Why was he brought here? And, most important, how does he leave? As we learn in "Arrival," Number 6 can't leave. The Village's "citizens" might dress colorfully and stroll around its manicured gardens while a band plays bouncy Strauss marches, but the place is actually a prison. Surveillance is near total, and if all else fails, there's always the large, mysterious white ball that subdues potential escapees by temporarily smothering them. Who runs the Village? An ever-changing Number 2, who wants to know why Number 6 resigned. If he'd only cooperate, he's told, life can be made very pleasant. "I've resigned," he fumes. "I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered. My life is my own." So sets the stage for the ultimate battle of wills: Number 6's struggle to retain his privacy, sanity, and individuality against the array of psychological and physical methods the Village uses to break him.
"Free for All" sees the Village gripped with campaign fever (it's a "democracy," Number 6 is told, though he retains a healthy skepticism). He's encouraged to run for the job of Number 2 against the incumbent, but what's the point? And why is the Village so keen to have a defiant troublemaker like Number 6 take the reins of power? In "Dance of the Dead," Number 2 stages an elaborate costume ball that turns into a nightmarish courtroom scene--and guess who's on trial?
An allegory of the conflict between person and society, individuality and conformity, and freedom and slavery, The Prisoner asks more questions than it answers, and that can be a maddening experience for viewers who like their TV neat and tidy. McGoohan (Braveheart, Escape from Alcatraz) also created, wrote, and directed much of the show, yet it's his screen presence that sets its tone. His terse body language, sardonic half-smile, and simmering anger at his imprisonment are used to maximum effect in scripts that emphasize strict word economy and witty repartee.
So does he ever escape? And does he ever find out who Number 1 is? "Questions are a burden to others," the Village saying goes. "Answers, a prison for oneself." Besides, only 14 more episodes until all is revealed. Or is it? --Steve Landau
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