Reflections on “The Prisoner”
(1967 TV series starring
Patrick McGoohan)
A video
presentation of this material is available here.
This is not intended as a
detailed analysis or review, but rather a personal interpretation of the much
admired and unique TV series.
In terms of the its
televisual background, the series is clearly influenced by McGoohan’s previous
work in “Danger Man” (known as “Secret Agent” in the USA) and is a sequel of
sorts, though this was strenuously refuted by McGoohan who doubtless saw “The Prisoner”
as a separate and individual work dealing with much broader and universal
themes. Although in the same category as several other spy/action/adventure
series of the early sixties, Danger Man’s plots and characterisations reflected
a more profound perception of events of the time and were treated with a level
of intelligence and awareness not always shared by its contemporaries.
During his time as script
editor on Danger Man, George Markstein, who went on to collaborate in the
development of “The Prisoner” and wrote and edited the scripts of some 13
episodes, became aware of the existence of a mysterious resort-like prison in
Scotland where some were held during World War Two. This style of prison seemed
an ideal setting to present ideas McGoohan had been garnering for another
series for some time during his stint in Danger Man. An episode of Danger Man
was filmed in Portmeirion (on the north western coast of Wales) and it appealed
to McGoohan as a location. Executive producer Sir Lew Grade gave the go-ahead
to the project based on McGoohan’s outline (with no written contract between
the two men), and the rest is history.
What is it about?
In a nutshell, it seems
to me that “The Prisoner” is about the place of the individual in society and
the restrictions a social framework must impose on the freedom of the
individuals within it.
The series considers
various aspects of conflict between an individual’s freedom and the lengths to
which members of society will go in order to protect the “sanctity” of that society.
We start with the
resignation of an agent (who holds important and potentially sensitive
information). He is kidnapped and held in a comfortable resort-like village in
order that authorities might ascertain just why this agent has resigned and
whether or not he represents a threat to the security and best interests of the
society he formerly helped to protect.
This contrasts with the
right of the individual to exercise his freedom to cease fulfilling this
function – whatever his reasons might be.
From this relatively
conventional start (which fits well with the end of Danger Man and contemporary
issues concerning the lives and careers of former agents), we experience
episodes which are increasingly allegorical in nature (to the point of being
arcane at times), but which are always engaging, thought-provoking and
compelling.
The authorities in the
Village seek information from Number 6 (inmates/inhabitants of the Village are
deprived of names and are reduced to mere numbers, like cogs in the machinery of
society) about why he resigned and use a variety of means to achieve their end.
They play psychological
games to test Number 6’s strength of character and spirit, though he frequently
manages to turn the tables so that the authorities (usually in the form of the
current Number 2) fail and may even reveal important information to Number 6.
Along the way questions
are raised about the very nature of democracy and the trust we all place in the
(sometimes shady) figures who run our society. “Sides” become irrelevant as
ultimately all parties would behave in the same way, leading to the conclusion
that no-one can be trusted. We are also invited to question motives and the
very positions we are expected to adopt in society, placing the interests of
that society above those of the individuals who collectively form it. Clearly,
these ideas are a product of their time (the Cold War was at its coldest in the
sixties), but the series develops these ideas to deal with universal concepts
of freedom and identity.
Within the context of
extraction of information, the authorities resort to confidence tricks,
application of drugs and even science-fiction duplication – all exploring
identity, strength of character and principle (Number 6 doesn’t know which
“side” is trying to break him, therefore it could be argued that he is actually
trying to protect the society he has known, or, if his own colleagues are
responsible for his incarceration, he is fighting for the principle of personal
freedom and choice).
The persistent and
ubiquitous use of technology throughout the series also serves to emphasise the
apparent futility of trying to preserve individuality or escape the clutches
and influence of modern society. Yet Number 6 manages to outwit the users of
said technology or find weaknesses within it, thus offering hope for humanity.
In the end, when we have
moved into purely allegorical territory, Number 6 does indeed escape and
returns to London, but it is clearly implied that some degree of supervision is
maintained. Number 6 is unbroken and intact but he (and we) can never escape
social pressure and supervision. Total freedom is an illusion – the best we can
manage is relative freedom within limits, though these may be limits of which
we remain largely unaware.
Number 6 also remains a
prisoner of himself, condemned to behave in certain ways by his character and
genes. Might his refusal to co-operate be regarded as a character defect or
weakness? Are the authorities simply trying to help him adapt to reality and
enable him to lead a “fuller” life within certain confines? This appears to be
the interpretation of the remake of 2009, a remake I found desperately
disappointing exactly because it appeared to preach conformity.
“The Prisoner” is
undoubtedly a work of art. It is a representation of ideas which all should
consider at some point. It is intriguing, inspiring and thought-provoking, but
by its very nature it is also personal, subjective, can lack clarity and is
open to a variety of interpretations. It has even been suggested that we are
witnessing a mental breakdown as Number 6 faces the consequences of his actions
in resigning. Perhaps he is in a coma and is dreaming. Whatever the context,
the questions the series poses remain valid and the thoughts it provokes remain
intriguing, important and relevant.
The performances and
production are highly polished and assured. The viewer feels those responsible
know exactly what they are doing, suggesting that any lack of understanding is
due to some inadequacy on the part of the viewer (though this may be far from
the case!).
The idea behind the use
of the penny farthing spinning out of control in the end credits was that
society was getting too big for its boots, developing at such a rate that
control can no longer be exercised and might eventually lead to
self-destruction. I suspect something similar can be said of the series itself
as, toward the end, it shifted to ever more outlandish and perhaps indulgent
representations and arguments concerning freedom and society.
For all that (and perhaps
even because of that), I am grateful for the production of this unique series
which continues to provoke reaction and thought.
My thanks for taking the
time to read this page – I hope you found it of some interest.
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