Category: television

(November 17, 1967; director: Don Chaffey)

This episode confused me the first time I saw it, to be honest. There’s a character who shows up at the very beginning who becomes pivotal later, but I somehow forgot him and ended up scratching my head over a few twists here.

I blame my public school education.

In my defense though, this IS a particularly odd installment. It begins with a scene that feels like it’s from the middle of an episode, as a mad scientist (Duncan MacCrae) gets stopped in the midst of an experiment on Patrick McGoohan’s Number Six that pushes the limits of The Village’s strict rule to get information from him without hurting him. From there, the plot walks us into a trap door every five minutes or so until we’re not quite sure where we are. Everything that happens is strange and so many details feel like non-sequiturs that the whole thing can feel like a non-sequitur.

Until the bleakness of it sticks to your ribs.

It’s not the tightest plotted hour of British televison of 1967, but it did come together for me on a second viewing and emerge as another nicely creepy psychological attack on McGoohan’s stoic former secret agent and his seemingly unbreakable resolve to not reveal a word of his secrets.

Continue reading “THE PRISONER #8: Dance of the Dead”

(1967; director: Patrick McGoohan under the name Joseph Serf)

This dark-hearted episode pulls off a trick that few TV shows or movies ever manage to do with a straight face. The Prisoner as a whole is like that, but this installment really goes for the gold.

Here’s what it does: Through the sheer power of its otherworldliness, “Many Happy Returns” absorbs you in a scenario that makes no rational sense.

I’m not talking about mere “suspension of disbelief”. That’s the agreement between you and the creators that you’ll buy into the idea of, say, Batman for the sake of the ride.

No, I’m talking about a story that lays some HUGE whoppers on ya. A story that depends on telling you that 2 + 2 = 8. A story that makes leaps in logic that would make Edward D. Wood Jr. say “Wait, hold up, you can’t do that.”

In lesser works, overpaid writers and directors will try to sneak some bullshit past you, but you–yes, you–spot it because you’re not as dumb as they hope you are. At best, you laugh at it. At worst, you feel cheated.

When it’s effective though, it’s like you got slipped some good acid and you really don’t care anymore about how time and space and gravity work.

The Prisoner does that to you.

Continue reading “THE PRISONER #7: Many Happy Returns”

(October 27, 1967; writer: Terence Feely; director: Pat Jackson)

In 2019, the line between television and le cinema is blurred to the max. Major directors do important work for television now. Auteur shit. Shit that’s a part of the same conversations that people have about theatrical movies. There are people who will argue that there’s still a division between the two forms of media, but, from where I sit, it looks like the walls are a’ tumblin’ down, Charlie.

The rise of high-definition television and cable networks (and streaming services) who can be more ambitious than their more dorky broadcast TV counterparts, still tethered to those FCC regulations and Doritos commercials, are the obvious steps forward.

But there were earlier advances toward this. The original run of Twin Peaks is a stepping stone, for sure. In my opinion, Miami Vice was one, too. (I intend to write about that show here in time, if you care.)

And way back in the 1960s, The Prisoner was similarly ambitious. Over fifty years later, these episodes look and behave like “a movie” to me. Its shots are beautifully composed and packed with information. Its background characters are sometimes a Fellini-like collection of memorable faces and bodies. Nothing about it seems cheap. When they went for a special effect, they put in the work to pull it off.

“Schizoid Man”, in which star Patrick McGoohan plays two roles, is a perfect example of what I’m babbling about.

(I’m also going to spoil the fuck out of it in this piece, so beware.)

Continue reading “THE PRISONER #5: Schizoid Man”

(October 20, 1967; writer: “Paddy Fitz”; director: Patrick McGoohan)

Star Patrick McGoohan both wrote and directed this episode (he assumes the name Paddy Fitz for his script credit) that takes the series to a striking new level of absurdity.

This is the one in which McGoohan’s “Number Six” learns that the position of the most powerful person that he’s met in The Village–that would be “Number Two”, who’s under the command of the still-mysterious “Number One”–goes up for election every year and that he’s very welcome to run for the job himself. In fact, the current “Number Two” (seasoned British film actor Eric Portman, a favorite of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger) encourages it. Not that it takes much effort to convince him, as McGoohan sees this as a possible chance to escape. Or to least learn more about The Village’s secrets.

Now, none of this makes a lick of sense because there’s a different “Number Two” in every episode. The Village is clearly does NOT run elections for that position. They are hiring and firing like Donald Trump. Crazy turnover in that position.

So, I don’t know what the hell kind of of logic is happening in this episode, but that’s okay. The Prisoner is already weird all over. Every episode begins with Patrick McGoohan waking up and hobbling toward the window of his room, as if he’s unsure if he’s dreaming or not. And maybe he is.

And this very episode is VERY dreamy.

Continue reading “THE PRISONER #4: Free For All”

(October 13, 1967; director: Pat Jackson)

Like my all-time favorite TV show, Twin Peaks, The Prisoner takes a turn for the dreamy in its third episode.

The difference is that this is a more scrutable dream. No one’s talking backwards or speaking in non-sequiturs, but this is still a mind-bending story in its own way. It’s one of the wildest trips of the series.

Continue reading “THE PRISONER #3: A. B. and C.”

(October 6, 1967: director: Don Chaffey)

It’s episode numero dos and we’re still laying back and eating acid-laced bon-bons in a plush bed of mystery. We don’t know much of anything. Nobody knows much of anything. The keepers of The Village are still asking former secret agent Patrick McGoohan the same question over and over again: Why did you resign?

Patrick McGoohan is still asking the same questions over and over again: Where Am I? and Who’s in charge here? 

We in the audience have a lot of questions, too. For starters, What’s with all the lava lamps? 

Yep, Kafka has collided with Syd Barrett somewhere in The Garden of Earthly Delights and it’s all pretty, pretty colors everywhere. The results will take time to sort through.

Continue reading “THE PRISONER #2: The Chimes of Big Ben”