The Prisoner (1967–68)

The Prisoner (1967–68)

17 episodes, approx 50 mins each.

In the opening credits of The Prisoner we witness a man driving to what we will soon presume to be his place of work. It's a building somewhere in London. The man enters through the OUT door, storms purposefully into an office and slams on a desk an envelope upon which hand-written text can be seen. He then leaves the building via the same route, drives home and hurriedly packs a suitcase.

Sometime thereafter the unnamed man reawakens in a furnished house in a populated village and the series begins proper.

The credits are the viewer's back-story, and everything that follows is the man's here and now. We come to know him as Number 6.

If asked to compile a list of perfect castings in TV history, alongside the likes of Mr. T as B.A. Baracus (The A-Team), Brent Spiner as Data (Star Trek TNG), Andreas Katsulas as G'Kar (Babylon 5), and Ian McShane as Al Swearengen (Deadwood) my list would definitely have Patrick McGoohan as The Prisoner's Number 6.

McGoohan was the show's co-creator, executive producer, occasional writer and director, so he probably had a hand in his own casting, too, but in all honesty he's the reason the enigmatic character works so well. The passion, the unyielding fire behind his eyes, even his demeanour — his very stance screams defiance — are felt at all times. His unwillingness to cooperate is instantly understood: in his head lives sensitive information that his captors fear will be leaked.

Who his captors are is a mystery. His previous employers? British Intelligence? A foreign power, perhaps? We can take nothing for granted. The newly relocated Number 6 refuses to give his reasons, and a battle of wills that confounds as much as it intrigues emerges as the primary conflict of a series that is equal parts perplexing, alluring, and ofttimes downright surreal.

"I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered."

Number 6's precise wording, his calculated responses, timing, the way he cleverly hides a second truth inside an actual truth when talking with his numbered superiors (or captors) is astonishing and as satisfying dramatically the hundredth time it's seen as it was the very first.

The location, known simply as The Village, is a picture postcard brought to life but retaining the creepy colourful unreality of the same. The almost constant observation that its residents experience makes everything feel deeply Orwellian, made even more unbearable by a picturesque decor. The Village is the kind of 'nice' that hides 'sinister' under every candy-striped awning.

Each new episode brings new challenges for the iron-willed captive, but his ultimate goal remains the same: liberation, escape, freedom! From an onlooker's perspective it becomes a kind of deadly game of cat and mouse that every cell in Number 6's body is determined to win.

I place the series in the same category as Sapphire and Steel (1979-82), as something that not only had me hooked as a kid and continued to hook me as an adult, but as something that had an actual and real dramatic impact on my mental development. It does arguably lose its way somewhat as it nears the end, and the final two-parter will provide fans with topics for debate for decades still to come, but at its best The Prisoner has few television equals.

I feel I've said enough and arrived at a comfortable conclusion, even though I've only scratched the surface of what the show has to offer. I wanted to mention Danger Man (1960–68), Fenella Fielding, and I somehow neglected to mention the surreal but freakishly menacing Rover! But it's probably best if I let any interested parties discover and/or explore all of that for themselves.