Welcome to the Village. Who's the New Number 2?

Patrick McGoohan, Number 6 (L) with the most famous of the Number 2's, Leo McKern

Sometime in the late '70's or early '80's PBS rebroadcast the British TV series The Prisoner. The 17 episodes originally ran in the fall of 1967 to February of '68, and gained a cult following on both sides of the Pond (it was broadcast in the States for the first time on CBS later on in '68). Even in my tweens I was curious about both late sixties pop culture and anything representing itself as being even remotely "artsy" or "deep," so I eagerly tuned in to see what the legendary series was about. Alas, at the time I possessed a curiosity beyond my actual ability to comprehend such material, so I tuned in but am not sure I made it through the first installment. It was surreal beyond my capacity to "just go with it." Which is too bad. Recently I've caught a few episodes on You Tube, and the first episode (The Arrival) is still pretty much as incomprehensible as I remembered it, but not so much so that it didn't set a context that makes each progressive episode more understandable, and a bit frightening.

Patrick McGoohan, who co-created the show, as well as writing some episodes, stars as a secret agent who resigns abruptly from what we presume to be a British spy agency (who is on what side of the Cold War era divide is never made clear). That very same day he is abducted and brought to an island containing an idyllic village, complete with public parks, a cafe, a general store, a gymnasium, and even a village government. He's assigned a cozy town house with all the comforts of home. But make no mistake; this is a prison, and he is being held captive. Anyone who tries to escape is pursued and smothered by an ominous white orb called Rover, which either subdues or kills the inmate, depending on the situation. And like all prisoners he has a number which replaces his name. For the run of the program McGoohan's character is known only as Number 6.

The Village contains other numbered prisoners of course, but also official observers and overlords, and it's not always clear who is an inmate and who is a guard. We only know that the warden, for lack of a better term, is Number 2, and he reports to the never seen Number 1 (whose identity is the great reveal of the finale). The Number 2 rotates frequently, and there is at least 1 new Number 2 each show, though two actors have multiple appearances in the role. Their job, along with the general oversight of the Village, is to get Number 6 to tell why he resigned so abruptly. He is a sensitive and valuable intelligence asset, so they don't want to use brute force to get him to talk, but they rather employ psychological manipulation to get at the truth.  I have about five installments to go, and because of research I know how it ends, though not how they get there, which will keep me watching.

The Prisoner was conceived of quite deliberately as an allegory, with Number 6 representing the individual struggling to resist a society that demands conformity and submission to group think. It's like Orwell's 1984, but instead of a hard oppression, the residence of the Village live in middle class comfort. They are free to while away the hours playing chess or loitering about the beach. There are group recreational activities, and even carnivals. But all the time they are being watched. The other inmates, like Number 6, are former agents whom the wardens are trying to extract information from, or are confined there after similar resignations because they know too much. As long as the prisoners comply peacefully and supply information, they can go on living their peaceful if meaningless existence. If they don't they are subjected to sophisticated psychological experiments, drugging, and aberrant conditioning (similar to what is seen in A Clockwork Orange). For those who refuse to follow the rules and show violent tendencies extreme measures like frontal lobotomies are performed. As I mentioned, Number 6 is spared the worst of it all because he is seen as being so valuable, to point that his handlers hope that he can be put back into regular society to resume his duties as a spy.

As an allegory all the characters are types, and we never get to know who they really are on any deep psychological level, not even Number 6. McGoohan envisioned seven episodes, but the production company wouldn't back it unless he committed to a full season. They compromised at 17 shows, and you can tell that some installments are rather pointed social commentary, while others are more straight forward action adventure, though still of a decidedly surreal nature. This leads me to believe that the former type episodes are what were intended, while the latter are a kind of filler (though again, of a very high quality).

Another thing I noticed was that Number 6 plays off of many different leading ladies during the course of the series, but never becomes romantically involved with any of them, even when such an occurrence would be logical or otherwise expected based on the established conventions of TV. There is one exception, and this is done through a conceit that has the Prisoner's mind transferred into another man's body, so that McGoohan himself never does the kissing. I found out, as I suspected, that McGoohan, being a practicing Catholic, refused to do any "love" scenes in his films and TV shows (he also refused to use guns). It didn't matter that it was "just acting"; passionately kissing and cavorting with a woman not his wife on screen was a nonstarter; one that often had him at loggerheads with producers and directors. It's the reason he turned down both the James Bond franchise and The Saint TV show. For him it was very simple; men such as Bond and Simon Templar, who had a new paramour every night and held human life as cheap, are not heroes or roll models, and he wasn't going to have his daughters see him playing such characters. He was also ferociously devoted to his wife, who he reputedly wrote love letters to constantly (so he can't be accused of not being romantic).

Lest the reader thinks I'm setting up McGoohan for canonization, he was a decidedly flawed man. He struggled with drink, and could fly off into terrible rages. His female co-stars especially found him difficult to work with. But he was a man of principle who chose a quietly distinguished career over international superstardom, and doesn't appear to have regretted it. He passed away, after 57 years of marriage, in 2009 at the age of 80.

So what's so frightening about The Prisoner? I've spent a lot of time on the set up, I'll get the dark, but resonant message of the series next time.