The Prisoner: Fall Out (1968)

Posted on June 2, 2017 at 10:54 am by Jeff Kuykendall

FALL OUT First UK Broadcast: February 2, 1968 [episode #17 in transmission order] | Written by Patrick McGoohan | Directed by Patrick McGoohan

SYNOPSIS

The episode opens not with the standard opening credits but a recap featuring scenes from “Once Upon a Time,” culminating with the death of No.2 (Leo McKern) during the extreme program called “Degree Absolute.” After the title credit “Fall Out” is projected over an aerial sweep of the Village, we return to No.6, the Butler (Angelo Muscat), and the Supervisor (Peter Swanwick) as they walk down the hallway out of the Embryo Room, then descend by the same lifts-in-the-floor that we typically see in No.2’s chamber in the Green Dome. Doors part and No.6 walks into a dressing room in which the only outfit is a black jacket draped over a mannequin in the Prisoner’s image. “We thought you’d be happier as yourself,” the Supervisor says. No.6 is then led through a tunnel of jukeboxes while the Beatles’ “All You Need is Love” plays. An ancient-looking door lies at the end of the tunnel, and the Supervisor unlocks it with a key. They enter a large cavern which contains: a raised podium at which the President (Kenneth Griffith) awaits wearing a judge’s wig; an empty throne on a dais; the “Assembly,” rows of seated figures wearing white robes and black and white Greek comedy/tragedy masks; a surgery unit with an operating table and medical equipment under square scaffolding; many armed guards in white helmets; a wall of computers; more masked figures seated at a table; the familiar observers’ see-saw from the Control Room; tubes in the floor hissing steam with one man bound there on a pole; and a missile-shaped cylinder with a single glowing eye and the number “1.” The Supervisor dons one of the tragi-comedy masks. Then the President announces:

This session is called in a matter of democratic crisis. And we are here gathered to resolve the question of revolt. We desire that these proceedings be conducted in a civilized manner, but remind ourselves that humanity is not humanized without force, and that errant children must sometimes be brought to boot by a smack on their backside!

The President (Kenneth Griffith).

The Prisoner is told that he has survived “the ultimate test” and that “he must no longer be referred to as a number of any kind. He has gloriously vindicated the right to be individual.” He is offered the “Chair of Honor” – the empty throne – which he accepts. Then the President asks for the Prisoner’s indulgence while they conduct a ceremony for the “transfer of ultimate power.” The President requests that No.2 be resuscitated, and the surgeons go to work after his body is brought out of the mobile cage from “Once Upon a Time” (which has been lowered into the cave). While this is occurring, the President resumes his discussion of “revolt,” intending to look at three different examples. First he turns his attention to the young man tied to the pole in the floor tube, No.48 (Alexis Kanner).

Youth with its enthusiasms, which rebels against any accepted norm – because it must and we sympathize! It may wear flowers in its hair and bells on its toes, but when the common good is threatened, when the function of society is endangered, such revolt must cease. It is non-productive and must be abolished.

No.48, a hippie, begins singing “Dem Bones” while running about the cavern, working the Assembly up and messing with the computer controls. Ultimately he’s restrained and found guilty by the Assembly. Next No.2, resurrected and freshly shaven, is brought forward. He tries to get the Butler to follow him, but the Butler now serves the Prisoner. “New allegiances!” says No.2. “Such is the price of fame. And failure.” The Prisoner asks No.2 if he’s ever met No.1, and No.2 scoffs. He looks at the rocket with the “1” painted on it and says, “Shall I give him a stare?” – looking directly into its unblinking electronic eye. The President accuses him of transgression. He too is restrained and the Prisoner asks that he be held in the “place of sentence” until after his inauguration. The President describes No.2 as belonging to the second kind of revolt, one which “bites the hand that feeds him.”

A revived No.2 (Leo McKern) is brought before the Prisoner and the Butler (Angelo Muscat).

A screen shows a “For Sale” sign being removed from in front of the Prisoner’s residence in London. He is brought forth the key to his home, traveler’s cheques, cash, and a passport, and he’s told that he can either lead the Village or go – wherever he pleases. The President praises him: “He has revolted. Resisted. Fought. Held fast. Maintained. Destroyed resistance. Overcome coercion. The right to be Person, Someone, or Individual is gloriously epitomized in his behavior.” The Prisoner accepts the gifts, not quite decided on whether he should lead or go, and rises to the podium to give a speech. But each time he begins to speak, “I…”, the Assembly parrots back “Aye, aye, aye, aye!” He makes several attempts but cannot be heard over their noise. He ceases, and the President solemnly asks if he wishes to meet No.1. The Prisoner and the Butler descend below the cavern in another lift cylinder, entering a control room with computers. The Butler indicates that he should climb a short spiral stair into a chamber. Inside this room within a room, the Prisoner sees a table of globe maps and a white-robed figure seated before a computer screen showing No.6 declaring that he will not be “pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered.” The figure slowly turns toward the Prisoner, wearing a mask and holding in his palms a crystal ball. On his robe is the number “1.” On the screen, No.6 repeats “I, I, I, I, I, I…” The Prisoner removes No.1’s mask, revealing a monkey’s mask underneath. He tears this off, and sees his own face under the white hood – a gibbering double, which begins to give chase before disappearing out of a hatch above the control room.

The Prisoner inside Number One’s chamber. Note the familiar phones in the background, including the big red phone.

The Prisoner and the Butler lead a violent revolt against the operators in the Control Room, first with fire extinguishers, and then, as they move into the “Throne Room” occupied by the President and the Assembly, machine guns. “All You Need is Love” is reprised over the carnage. The Prisoner also prepares for launch the rocket which doubled as the “eye” of No.1, and the Village is evacuated before it erupts from underground. The Prisoner, the Butler, No.2, and No.48 escape in the mobile cage, the Butler at the wheel – it is revealed to be a truck as it passes out of a tunnel and onto the open road. After another round of “Dem Bones,” they arrive in London and part ways. No.2 goes to the House of Lords. The Butler enters the Prisoner’s home at 1 Buckingham Place – the door opens and closes behind him automatically, like one of the doors in the Village. The Prisoner boards his Lotus Seven and drives off, recreating the opening credits as he roars down the road. A close-up of his face (as from the credits) is the last we see before the screen goes black.

OBSERVATIONS

It is important to remember that Everyman Films, the production company of Patrick McGoohan credited at the end of every episode, is named after an allegorical play. “Fall Out” is pure allegory with no concessions to realism. The characters are symbols. Alexis Kanner, returning to the show for the third time (after “Living in Harmony” and a cameo in “The Girl Who Was Death“), earns the right to be called not 48 but “Young Man” after the Prisoner bestows the title upon him and No.1 approves (this is more clear in the original script). In the story’s terms he has earned the right to be more than a number, but in fact he has only earned the honor to represent his kind: he is the Young Man, the personification of youths that were part of a social revolution which, by 1968, was quickly becoming commodified by the press and pop culture. Kanner’s character is McGoohan’s own impression of the young hippie, anarchic, dressed in antique clothes, given to “hep” sayings (“Thanks for the trip, Dad!” is his first line). It’s no more authentic than many other portrayals which were cropping up in film and TV, and yet for the purposes of this episode it really doesn’t matter. The Prisoner is now only dealing with absolutes; we are a long way from the nuanced characterizations of, say, “The Chimes of Big Ben.” The President, dressed as and acting like a judge, doesn’t convince as a character that exists beyond the scenes that he occupies. The extras behind him are wearing Greek tragedy/comedy masks, underlining the broad strokes of this play (which is, in fact, both a tragedy and a comedy). Leo McKern’s No.2, one of the rich characters from “Chimes,” is reduced to laughing insanely after “giving a stare” at No.1, but at least he remains the most fascinating No.2 in the series: we learn, for instance, that he appreciated his office but has exhausted his patience, and he rips off his badge to stand beside the Prisoner as another revolutionary in the face of authoritarian control.

Alexis Kern as No.48/”Young Man.”

1968 audiences watching “Fall Out” may have received their first warning when the President starts with, “We crave your indulgence for a short while.” “Once Upon a Time” promised that we would meet No.1, whose presence had been teased since the very first episode, and McGoohan must have been aware that this is all “Fall Out” must accomplish, but that wouldn’t fill up an hour. So he pads things out by giving us theater, a courtroom drama in another dimension. With No.48 going wild singing “Dem Bones” and engaging in a bizarre dialogue with the President – “Give it to me, baby!” the President memorably shouts – I wouldn’t blame viewers who quit then and there. Certainly those loathing McGoohan’s oddball proceedings wouldn’t appreciate the final revelation of No.1, which is allegorical in the extreme. But what a trip, Dad! “Fall Out” is the freakout climax of a one-of-a-kind series, and even if it sets out to frustrate (isn’t that always the goal of The Prisoner: to frustrate audience expectations?), it’s overstuffed with obscure ideas and surreal strokes. It sticks in the memory like gum on your shoe. Consider that the climax features: a massacre set to “All You Need is Love”; Rover shriveling up to the sound of Carmen Miranda singing “I, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi (I Like You Very Much)”; a meeting between the Prisoner and No.1 that looks like a 70’s prog rock album cover with its masked figure extending a crystal ball by a table set with globes; and a Pythonesque trip to London with McGoohan, McKern, and Muscat. You may not have gotten what you expected or wanted, but you got something.

The Prisoner mannequin.

But most importantly, McGoohan reframes the entire series for the viewer in a hat trick. He forces you to watch it again with the knowledge that No.6 is No.1; he even allows the ending of “Fall Out” to become the opening credits, putting the series in a permanent loop. His most brilliant move is the shot of Muscat entering No.6’s home, with the door opening and closing with the familiar mechanical hum. Everything is the Village. It’s an echo of No.2’s discussion in “Chimes” of the whole world becoming the Village. This drives home McGoohan’s point just as well as, if not better than, the image of No.1 unmasked and raving. We are all prisoners of ourselves. Even when the Prisoner has escaped, he can only loop back to the beginning of another Prisoner episode, the Lotus Seven acting like a malfunctioning time machine that restores him to the same spot as before. Note that the escapees all get a special credit over footage of them going their separate ways – “Alexis Kanner,” “Leo McKern,” “Angelo Muscat” – but McGoohan just gets the credit “Prisoner.” That’s all he is. We never even learn the character’s name, because he will remain a prisoner.

In the Throne Room.

McGoohan admitted in the interview with Warner Troyer that he didn’t know No.6 was No.1 until he sat down to write “Fall Out.” As the deadline loomed, he confessed to ITC’s Lew Grade that he didn’t have an ending. He recalled, “It got very close to the last episode and I hadn’t written it yet. And I had to sit down this terrible day and write the last episode, and I knew it wasn’t going to be something out of James Bond, and in the back of my mind there was some parallel with the character 6 and No. 1 and the rest. And then, I didn’t even know exactly ’til I was about a third through the script, the last script.” When he did arrive at the solution, it refocused the entire series more sharply on a psychological and philosophical level. “This overriding, evil force is at its most powerful within ourselves and we have constantly to fight it, I think, and that is why I made No. 1 an image of No. 6. His other half, his alter ego.” Cleverly, from “Once Upon a Time” and its descent from the Green Dome into the Embryo Room, and then on into this episode and its plunging deeper and deeper from one level to the next, there is a continual excavation of the layers of the Village which parallel the Prisoner penetrating into his own psyche. It is only there, at the very, very bottom, that he can confront No.1. He reacts violently. His revolution is ultimately written with the machine gun fire. He riddles his unconscious with bullet holes to break free, and even this doesn’t liberate him.

The Supervisor (Peter Swanwick), the Butler, and the Prisoner descend.

The reaction from the viewing public was not kind, and McGoohan claimed he had to go into hiding for a few weeks until the furor died down. Perhaps if The Prisoner had been allegorical in each and every episode, the public might have been better prepared. Certainly McGoohan’s scripts, in particular “Free for All,” play on this level; however the series employed a variety of writers, and many of the episodes are quite literal, even if they have touches of the surreal or import science fiction elements. And most people want their entertainment to be literal. It takes a certain sort to appreciate ambiguity, or to acknowledge contradictory concepts which a piece of art might employ: that the Village, for example, can be in Morocco in “Many Happy Returns” and just down the freeway from London in “Fall Out.” But The Prisoner was many things; it contained many genres, many styles; it could be entertainment and it could be Art. “Fall Out” is sometimes awkward, sometimes enervating, often baffling, and prickly and unlovable too. It is not the ending many would like The Prisoner to have. But it is McGoohan’s ending, sometimes wondrous, sometimes obscure, and unapologetic Art.

THE PRESIDENT AND THE ASSEMBLY

This episode introduces us to the elite beneath the Village that surround No.1 without facing him directly. Kenneth Griffith, who had a dual role in “The Girl Who Was Death” as both the mad scientist and No.2, is engaging as the President – officious and dignified until he begins to reveal a bit of Lewis Carroll madness at the edges. His judge’s wig reveals his true role as a judge who can sentence revolutionaries brought before him. The masked Assembly is described in the script as resembling the United Nations. Before each of them is a sign indicating who they represent. These include: Welfare, Pacifists, Anarchists, Identification, Security, Defectors, Education, Therapy, Youngsters, Reactionists, Nationalists, Recreation, Health, Old Folks, Committee, Activists, Board, and Govern. They have a weakness for “Dem Bones.”

The key to the Prisoner’s London home is symbolically offered.

JUKEBOXES

The hallway of jukeboxes is one of the most memorable images in “Fall Out.” We can glimpse albums by Al Jolson, Shirley Bassey, Lesley Gore, Trini Lopez, and two by The Beatles (Something New and The Beatles’ Second Album – curiously, both American albums rather than the U.K. originals). Though “All You Need is Love” plays, the script originally suggested that different songs would compete for attention: “Strawberry Fields Forever,” “Little Boxes,” “Toot-Toot-Tootsie Goodbye,” “Hello Dolly,” “Yellow Submarine,” and “All You Need is Love.” (“Or whatever,” the script says.)

PORTMEIRION

For the first time in the series, the shooting location is revealed in the credits – and prominently, too: right before the title “Fall Out” appears. A special thank you is given to Sir Clough Williams-Ellis and his Hotel Portmeirion.

6 OF 1…

It’s curious that McGoohan didn’t know that No.6 was No.1 until he wrote “Fall Out,” given that one could read clues into many of the episodes. Most tellingly, No.6’s residence has the address of “1” right there on its door, a fact which is highlighted again at the end of this episode. In the standard opening credits exchange between No.2 and No.6, 6 asks, “Who is Number One?” and No.2 replies “You are Number Six.” Add a comma and the response becomes an answer rather than a deflection. McGoohan stated that when his staff read the script, a few of them said they’d figured it all out long ago.

Number One.

REVOLUTION 1

“But when you talk about destruction
Don’t you know that you can count me out (in).”

-The Beatles, “Revolution 1”

The surprising inclusion of “All You Need is Love” – all the more surprising given how rarely Beatles music is licensed for film, let alone TV – perfectly tethers the show to the pop culture moment of 1967-68 and ideas percolating up from the counterculture. (McGoohan would have disapproved, but honestly, was there a better TV show for those experimenting with drugs?) The song debuted on Sunday, June 25, 1967, as Britain’s contribution to the worldwide live event Our World, which was, to quote the BBC press release, “linking five continents and bringing man face to face with mankind, in places as far apart as Canberra and Cape Kennedy, Moscow and Montreal, Samarkand and Söderfors, Takamatsu and Tunis.” The Beatles performed the song live on the broadcast to a pre-recorded rhythm track. It was issued as a single (b/w “Baby, You’re a Rich Man”) on July 7 and reached the top of the charts quickly in the U.K. and the U.S. McGoohan gives added (if almost subliminal) prominence to the Beatles by displaying two of their Capitol Records albums in the jukeboxes that the Prisoner walks past.

The song is used twice in the episode. When it first appears, it is triumphant: the Prisoner is on the cusp of finally achieving his goals and being free. But after the trial of “revolt” and the confrontation between the Prisoner and his dark inner self, he turns to violence, doing something John Drake wouldn’t and picking up a gun – as he did in “Living in Harmony,” an episode I described as a moral failure on his part. While he mows down his enemies, “All You Need is Love” plays a second time, ironically, but also to suggest that sometimes revolution might require brute force (when all else fails). He even launches the No.1 rocket, which implies the destruction of the Village. But this doesn’t work either – he is as much a prisoner at the end of the episode as he is at the beginning of the series, though one could superficially accept the events as they’re presented and believe he has finally escaped.

The Prisoner prepares to launch the rocket, with Number 1’s electronic eye.

In May 1968, a few months after “Fall Out” shocked and outraged British viewers, the Beatles began work on John Lennon’s new song “Revolution,” its lyrics shaped like a dialogue with a young revolutionary (perhaps Young Man himself) and expressing Lennon’s complex feelings on the topic. Lennon’s music would become increasingly political as he moved into the arena of solo artist, with “Give Peace a Chance” becoming an anthem for the young people around him who wanted to change the world for the better.  “Revolution” was directly inspired by 1968 anti-war protests and the violent responses from police. Ultimately three different versions would be recorded. The single (a double-A sided single with Paul McCartney’s “Hey Jude”) was a blistering rock song. But the two versions on their 1968 “White Album” (The Beatles) were radically different. “Revolution 9,” birthed from outtakes from a particularly wild take and inspired by Yoko Ono’s art gallery happenings, was an avant-garde sound collage which attempted to capture the sometimes terrifying sounds of a revolution.

There was also “Revolution 1,” so named because it was the song’s first incarnation and the one which Lennon preferred, a slower, doo-wop take. In this early version, he hadn’t yet decided whether “destruction” was necessary in a revolution, and instead of saying “you can count me out,” as he did in the single version, he gave a more ambivalent response: “You can count me out…in.” McGoohan seems to take a similar stance in “Fall Out.” “All You Need is Love,” but sometimes sticking flowers in the nozzles of guns, Young Man, will not do the trick.

THE VILLAGE

“Fall Out” recasts the Village as a metaphysical place, located inside the Prisoner’s mind. At least, this is one possible interpretation. One can revisit the series with this knowledge and certain episodes (“Free for All,” “Dance of the Dead“) make more sense than others. But the overall theme that the Prisoner’s cage is of his own making is, to my mind, a satisfying resolution.

The Butler retires to the Prisoner’s home.

RANKING THE EPISODES

See my notes in “The Girl Who Was Death” (under “Sequence”) as to my Prisoner episode sequencing, including an overview of the logic I applied and the narrative this sequence tells.

Here is a completely subjective ranking of the Prisoner episodes. “Fall Out” is the most difficult to rate since it really stands on its own, but I’m making an attempt nonetheless. My enthusiasm only dwindles with the last couple of episodes on the list (and the lowest is the only one that I could do without); please don’t think that just because something is in the middle or lower half of this list means that I find it mediocre.

1. Once Upon a Time
2. Free for All
3. The Chimes of Big Ben
4. The Schizoid Man
5. Arrival
6. A. B. and C.
7. Living in Harmony
8. Hammer Into Anvil
9. Fall Out
10. Many Happy Returns
11. Dance of the Dead
12. Checkmate
13. The General
14. A Change of Mind
15. The Girl Who Was Death
16. It’s Your Funeral
17. Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling

BEYOND THE PRISONER

The Prisoner found an immediate life outside its TV run in a short series of tie-in novels: Thomas M. Disch’s The Prisoner, Hank Stine’s A Day in the Life (look: another Beatles reference!), and David McDaniel’s Who is Number Two? Other Prisoner books have been written by Roger Langley (Think Tank, Charmed Life, When in Rome) and – more recently – Jonathan Blum and Rupert Booth (The Prisoner’s Dilemma) and Andrew Cartmel (Miss Freedom). There has been a great deal of fan fiction, including my own 1995 novella Soliloquy which was published by the American fan club Once Upon a Time. DC Comics acquired the Prisoner license in 1988 and created a miniseries sequel to “Fall Out” called Shattered Visage, written by Dean Motter and Mark Askwith and illustrated by Motter. This follows a young woman who is washed ashore in the Village, now abandoned, and encounters No.2 – actually an aged No.6. It’s well done, a somber epilogue to the series that perhaps works best in graphic novel form.

Patrick McGoohan wrote a script for a feature film sequel to The Prisoner, but it was never produced. Film remakes were threatened over the years, but nothing surfaced until the 2009 miniseries written by Bill Gallagher and starring Jim Caviezel as No.6 and Ian McKellen as No.2. I haven’t watched it since it aired, but it left a sour taste. The positives: the desert setting for the Village was a smart substitute for Portmeirion, emphasizing both the Prisoner’s isolation and the surreal nature of the story. McKellen is an excellent choice for No.2, and Rover was well realized (I think – it’s been a while). The negative: the decision to make the series one serialized story with subplots and character conflicts that depart from the core theme of the show, and a disappointing resolution in the final episode. Take my criticisms with a grain of salt, though, because it’s been eight years since I’ve watched it. Caviezel would go on to the much more successful Person of Interest, which picks up on some of the themes of The Prisoner.

The most successful post-Prisoner adaptation I’ve encountered is the audio drama by Big Finish Productions. Written and directed by Nicholas Briggs and featuring Mark Elstob as No.6, this series strikes the perfect balance between homage and reinvention. The original stories (sprinkled in with remakes) could easily be slipped into the original series, and Briggs – unlike many of the writers to attempt The Prisoner over the years – really “gets it.” A second volume of episodes is due out around August of this year.

CONCLUSION

That wraps up Midnight Only’s coverage of The Prisoner, aging quite well 50 years on. Be seeing you.

QUOTES

The Prisoner: Don’t knock yourself out.

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The Prisoner: Once Upon a Time (1968)

Posted on May 30, 2017 at 10:10 pm by Jeff Kuykendall

ONCE UPON A TIME First UK Broadcast: January 26, 1968 [episode #16 in transmission order] | Written by Patrick McGoohan | Directed by Patrick McGoohan

SYNOPSIS

Leo McKern’s No.2 (from “The Chimes of Big Ben“) has been brought back to make a final attempt to break No.6. No.2 is nearly apoplectic as the episode begins; he rejects his breakfast and is outraged to find Rover sitting in his chair, which implies that he’s just another prisoner being kept in his place. He decides to implement a program called “Degree Absolute,” though he’s only given a week to execute it. While No.6 sleeps, the lamp above his bed descends and covers his face, beginning a process which reverts him to an infantile state by morning. No.2 and the Butler (Angelo Muscat) lead the boyish No.6 (eating an ice cream cone) to the Embryo Room beneath the Green Dome, a locked chamber filled with props like a theater. It also contains a mobile caged prison with a kitchenette and toilet. Only one of them is expected to survive the week – “’till death do us part.” He outlines three goals:

A. Find missing link. [Find out what makes No.6 tick which they don’t currently understand.]
B. Put it together. [Determine why he resigned.]
C. BANG! [Death for one or the other.]

No.2 guides No.6 through Shakespeare’s 7 Ages of Man, restoring the Prisoner’s persona from childhood to schoolboy to young adulthood, fighting in a war, getting a top secret job for the government, and so on. Throughout these little plays, the Butler attends to their every need and enacts various supporting roles. We also see No.6’s unshakable personality forming and maturing in his youth: refusing to “rat” on his friend when the headmaster questions him; standing up to authoritarian questions over his exceeding the speed limit while on the job; holding his own when he’s captured behind enemy lines. And despite the fact that No.2 keeps circling back to the question of why he resigned, No.6 will not give a proper answer, nor will he even speak the number “six.” At the end of the week, the two are at each other’s throats with only minutes to spare, engaging in violence both physical and psychic. In the final second, No.2 collapses dead and the door unlocks and opens. The Supervisor (Peter Swanwick) enters and asks, “What do you desire?” The Prisoner answers, “Number One,” and follows the Supervisor out the door and down the hall.

No.2 (Leo McKern) introduces No.6 to the Embryo Room.

OBSERVATIONS

“You are a member of the Village! You are a unit of society!”

“Once Upon a Time” was produced relatively early in the show’s run: it was the sixth to go into production. Originally it was intended as the finale of a first series of thirteen episodes. When it was decided that The Prisoner would come to an end after only seventeen episodes, OUAT was pushed back to become the penultimate story of the series, and the ending was supposedly rewritten to lead directly into “Fall Out.” I say “supposedly” because early draft scripts included on the Blu-Ray set all have the ending as you see it here.

This is an actor’s showcase, a chamber piece with only McGoohan, McKern, and Muscat. It’s a three-person play that has always reminded me of Waiting for Godot. McGoohan’s writing, here as in “Free for All” and “Fall Out,” leans heavily on avant-garde theater as an influence, and pages and pages of the script are reduced to nothing but short phrases, single words, or even numbers – as with Godot, it is almost incoherent unless performed. McKern rises to the challenge for this most theatrical of episodes, but suffered a nervous breakdown during production. You can pretty much watch it happen on screen. Name another TV show in the late 60’s that took this sort of risk or felt this genuinely dangerous. McGoohan, for his part, happily subverts his suave image, throwing himself into the Prisoner’s infantile side, then essaying the adolescent and young adult before turning quite savage on No.2 in the final ten minutes.

No.6 reverts to childhood.

Eccentricities abound. In the Embryo Room, No.2 and the Butler don slitted visors like those worn by Eskimos to avoid snowblindness. The Pop Apostle guide to the Prisoner speculates that the eyewear may be used to resist the “hypnotic lighting in the room” which keeps No.6 in his emotionally reverted state. Personally, I tend to think that there is something more symbolic in their use rather than a literal tool in the experiment. No.6 is under the harsh light, but No.2 and the Butler are protected: like scientists interacting with a subject inside a quarantine zone. Pop Apostle also notes that Villagers can be seen wearing these in “Arrival,” and further speculates that “they might be indications of ocular damage that occurred during experiments performed on those residents.” No.2 is also seen playing with a tinker-toy-like mechanism like the one the Labour Exchange Manager uses in “Arrival.” I don’t personally believe there is any symbolism in this toy, unless McGoohan is once more mocking the idea of technology and progress.

Progress: that’s McGoohan’s oft-quoted explanation of the penny-farthing bicycle symbol. As we learned from the alternate cuts of “Arrival” and “The Chimes of Big Ben,” the original ending credits of The Prisoner were to show the penny-farthing becoming the Earth and the Universe. The Earth was to spin toward the viewer until replaced by the letters POP (as seen in the alternate “Chimes”). If progress will lead to the world going “pop,” then the symbolism makes sense. “Pop Goes the Weasel” is a theme that frequently recurs in the score, drawing a connection between the “pop” of a jack-in-the-box – that terrifies and delights every little child – and the weighted penny-farthing symbol. Now in “Once Upon a Time” we finally get an acronym for POP…

No.2 plays the Judge, while the Butler (Angelo Muscat) assists.

No.6: Pop goes the weasel.
No.2: Pop.
No.6: Pop.
No.2: Pop protect.
No.6: Protect?
No.2: Protect pop.
No.6: Pop.
No.2: Pop protect.
No.6: Pop.
No.2: Protect Other People.
No.6: Pop.
No.2: People’s own protection.
No.6: Protect Other…Pop.
No.2: Protect Other People. Why?
No.6: Pop.
No.2: Why why why why?
No.6: Pop goes the weasel…

(Note: I removed about two hundred “pops” from this exchange.) But what does “Protect Other People” mean? If we are to tie it into the technology-will-destroy-us theme (which is played out in some episodes such as “The General“), then perhaps that which “protects other people” is nuclear weapons. The nuclear arms race in the name of protection also marches the world toward annihilation. Think of the Doomsday Clock managed by the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (which recently advanced closer to “midnight”), or like the doomsday clock in this episode, which is hidden behind a curtain and counts down the week of “Degree Absolute,” with the promised ending of death for one of its combatants. Or perhaps the Prisoner once desired to protect other people, such as he protected his schoolmate, refusing to be “a rat.” Maybe he even resigned for the same reason – when he realized that his job was no longer protecting humanity, but putting it at risk.

Rover occupies the globe chair.

No.6 does give another half-answer to the question of his resignation, as he did in “Chimes.”

No.2: Why did you resign?
No.6: For peace.
No.2: Peace?
No.6: Let me out!
No.2: You resigned for peace?
No.6: Yes. Let me out.
No.2: You resigned?
No.6: Yes.
No.2: For peace, you say?
No.6: Yes.
No.2: You fool.
No.6: Peace of mind.
No.2: What?
No.6: I resigned for peace of mind.
No.2: Why?
No.6: Too many people know too much.
No.2: Never.
No.6: I know too much.

A few moments later No.2 asks again, “Why did you resign?” and No.6 responds, “You have been told.” Which begs the question – would No.2 ever know the honest answer if he heard it, and would he ever accept it?

No.6 turns the tables on No.2.

The episode begins with humor – Rover sitting in No.2’s chair and filling it cozily, a sphere within a sphere – but there’s something nerve-jangling about the energy. No.2 only roars, his gentle humor from “Chimes” worn away. No.6 interrogates his fellow Villagers on the street in the most hostile manner. Something is about to happen, we can feel it: something big, something bad. No.6 kills in this episode. Not with the fencing foil that he takes in his hand and plunges at No.2 – who taunts him that he missed, even while oozing blood tells a different story – and not by the knife that he offers No.2 when things get even more serious. No, he kills him by pushing their manic, back-and-forth, sputtering dialogue into lethal sticks-and-stones. “Die!” he screams. And then he says his number. “Die! Six. Die!” His voice is demonic, chilling, all the more so because we don’t see his face – just No.2’s horrified reaction while a heart…slowly…stops.

“Once Upon a Time” is breathtaking television, one man’s unique creative vision brought to screens without cautious network notes. When I think of similar examples of a show locking the door and spending an hour with just a small number of characters (say, Homicide: Life on the Street‘s “Three Men and Adena” or Breaking Bad‘s “Fly”), The Prisoner stands out for pushing its writing to the level of the abstract, sometimes veering into the nonsensical, but always blisteringly psychological. Even when you can’t understand what No.6 and No.2 are talking about, you can feel that we are driving toward something deep, hidden, and forbidden – all of us, together. As is made even more clear in the next episode, we are plunging inside the Prisoner’s psyche. In “Once Upon a Time” he is deconstructed and then reassembled through the Seven Ages of Man. In “Fall Out” we will get even closer to this man – and to the heart of the Village.

Muscat announces that breakfast is ready.

TITLES

The opening title “Once Upon a Time” is in a slightly smaller type than most, and the “i” has a dot in it, which violates one of the cardinal rules for the “Village” font.

The original title for this episode was “Degree Absolute.” The new title seems like it would be a better fit for “The Girl Who Was Death,” since that story is revealed to be nothing more than a storybook. Similarly, the title “Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling” could have been handed to the Western episode, “Living in Harmony” (since the former title is the hit song from High Noon), and “A Change of Mind” could have suited the mind-swapping plot of “Do Not Forsake…” Have I been thinking about this nonsense way too much? Oh, definitely.

No.6 undergoes regression for “Degree Absolute.” In the background, No.2 sings him nursery rhymes.

METHODOLOGY

We’ve seen the glowing lamp above No.6’s bed before, when it’s been used to hypnotize him. (A similar hypnosis technique appears in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.) This is the first time it’s completely swallowed his face and reverted him to his youth. “Degree Absolute” is the technique, tied explicitly to the Embryo Room, from which only one man can emerge alive. The science is unclear. This is a metaphysical duel.

Late in the episode, No.6 has an almost-broken No.2 sprawled on the floor when he confronts him about the nature of the game:

No.6: You chose this method because you knew the only way to beat me was to gain my respect.
No.2: That is correct.
No.6: And then I would confide.
No.2: I hoped that would come to trust me.
No.6: This is a recognized method…
No.2: …used in psychoanalysis. The patient must come to trust his doctor, totally.
No.6: Sometimes they change places.
No.2: Which is essential in extreme cases.
No.6: Also a risk.
No.2: A grave risk.
No.6: If the doctor has his own problems.
No.2: I have.
No.6: That is why the system is known as “Degree Absolute.”
No.2: It’s one or the other of us.
No.6: Why don’t you resign?
No.2: You’re very good!

WIN OR LOSE?

This is the final win for No.6, climbing to the top of the Village – or, rather, below, since everything important in The Prisoner is underground. (Kind of like the unconscious, huh?) Next we will discover what reward awaits him underground.

Patrick McGoohan entertains the press at the September 1967 press conference.

THE PRESS CONFERENCE

In September 1967, just before The Prisoner debuted, Patrick McGoohan hosted a most unusual event for the press. Here is how Alain Carrazé and Hélène Oswald described it in their 1989 book The Prisoner: A Televisionary Masterpiece:

The guests were first taken to the studios at Borehamwood, where they were shown the first episode, “Arrival.” When they left the screening room, they were directed to a room specially prepared for them: behind the bars from “Once Upon a Time,” Patrick McGoohan was waiting for them, dressed in the red tunic he wears for the Kosho game, with a fur hat on his head and with Angelo Muscat at his side. And it was through the bars that he addressed the journalists. But his replies to their numerous questions were more than evasive; it is said that he asked even more than they did. Then he came out of his prison and invited them to a buffet served by waitresses dressed like the maids in the Village, and laid out on the circular desk from Number 2’s office, with his spherical chair in pride of place at the center. An exhibition of [Jack] Shampan’s sketches for the sets and various props from the series – including a mini-moke – completed the whole thing. There was even a large penny-farthing in one corner, and Alexis Kanner was able to demonstrate how to ride it. Finally, McGoohan, who had slipped out for a while, reappeared dressed as a cowboy, ready to start shooting “Living in Harmony.” And so, fairly baffled but above all frustrated, the journalists were taken back to London.

QUOTES

No.2: This is it. For better or worse. Who knows? One week, one teeny-weeny week my boy. Neither of us can leave. Till death do us part. And I’ve brought it on myself. Who knows?

No.2: Even as a child, there is something in your head that is a puzzlement! I intend to discover it.

Supervisor: We shall need the body for evidence. What do you desire?
No.6: Number One.
Supervisor: I’ll take you.

THE END CREDITS

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for a TV show in the 60’s to include a cute little tag at the very end, some signature to remind the viewer what they’ve been watching. But the one offered by The Prisoner week after week was in-your-face and crushingly downbeat. From an aerial view of Portmeirion, a Pythonesque cut-out of McGoohan’s face silently flies toward the viewer, about to escape the Village until bars slam shut over it with a deafening clang. Since so many episodes ended with an aborted escape attempt from the Prisoner, this symbolic animation served to rub salt in the wound. It also reminded viewers that not only would the Prisoner never escape, but that was the show’s whole thing. People were practically dared to come back for another helping next week. How much punishment could they take?

While Ron Grainer’s opening credits theme comes trumpeting in for a reprise, a wheel spins against an abstract desert backdrop with Romanesque statuary, reminiscent of the busts with hidden cameras at the perimeter of the Village. The wheel settles into its spot where the penny-farthing bicycle will be assembled piece by piece as the credits unfurl. McGoohan’s production company, Everyman Films Limited (named after the 15th century Christian morality play Everyman, or The Summoning of Everyman), receives a prominent credit. For this episode, so does Angelo Muscat, getting some well deserved attention. When the bicycle is complete, for a brief second all parts but the wheels disappear, a vestige of the original version in which the wheels would transform into the Earth and the Universe until everything goes POP! Instead, we see Rover bubble up from beneath the sea and surface just as the theme becomes triumphant. As he bounces along the water, it’s like he’s saying, “So long, kids! See you next week!”

UP NEXT: FALL OUT

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The Prisoner: The Girl Who Was Death (1968)

Posted on May 28, 2017 at 10:05 am by Jeff Kuykendall

THE GIRL WHO WAS DEATH First UK Broadcast: January 18, 1968 [episode #15 in transmission order] | Written by Terence Feely | Directed by David Tomblin

SYNOPSIS

While pursuing a madman with a rocket, a colonel is assassinated during a cricket match. Mr. X (Patrick McGoohan) is on the job after touching base with his contact, Potter (Christopher Benjamin). He offers himself as bait in another cricket match and successfully foils an assassination attempt, then begins to track the killer, a woman dressed in white who calls herself Death (Justine Lord). In fact she is Sonia, the daughter of the madman, Schnipps (Kenneth Griffith). Sonia teases Mr. X while she tries to kill him – first by poisoning him, then by trapping him in a steam bath. He follows her through a carnival, but she continues to escape his grasp. She leads him in a car chase to an abandoned town where he’s subjected to deadly trials in the shops of a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker (the candles emit a cyanide gas and explode if snuffed). He escapes each trap and steals aboard her helicopter as she flies back to home base: a lighthouse that’s a rocket in disguise. There the neurotic Schnipps and his minions dress as Napoleon while plotting to launch their rocket at London. Mr. X foils their plans, blowing up the rocket with Schnipps and Sonia still in it. This tale is revealed to be a picture book read by No.6 to the Village children. In the Green Dome, No.2 (Griffith) and his assistant (Lord) are frustrated that No.6’s story has revealed nothing of importance.

Sonia, the Girl Who Was Death (Justine Lord).

OBSERVATIONS

“The Girl Who Was Death” originated as a two-part script for Danger Man before the series was abruptly canceled due to its star’s departure. It shares much in common with how that final season had been shaping up with “Koroshi” and “Shinda Shima,” both over-the-top spy adventures in the James Bond, Avengers, and Man from U.N.C.L.E. vein, at odds with the usual seriousness that Danger Man exhibited. But now The Prisoner was coming to its own premature end, with its second order of episodes shortened to just four. (“Once Upon a Time” had already been filmed as part of the first batch.) Like two of those – “Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling” and “Living in Harmony” – we leave the Village greenery, as though Portmeirion had no more stories to offer. But “The Girl Who Was Death” has a markedly different tone than those episodes; The Prisoner was nothing if not varied. It’s very slight, but it’s a genuinely funny parody. In fact, it could be read as The Prisoner spoofing Danger Man, right down to the inclusion of Christopher Benjamin’s Potter, who had appeared in “Koroshi.” (By a remarkable coincidence, it even features an actor named John Drake.) Griffith had appeared in “Shinda Shima.” To add to the delirium, The Prisoner had been on a short break for a few weeks in January 1968, and those last two long-delayed, full color Danger Man episodes took the show’s place, followed by “The Girl Who Was Death” which began to air across the country on January 18. Therefore The Prisoner became Danger Man which then transitioned into this strange mix of the two, with overlapping actors and similar styles. If audiences had a hard time telling No.6 from John Drake, this wouldn’t help matters.

Mr. X (McGoohan) is held captive by Schnipps (Kenneth Griffith), whose Napoleon complex is quite literal.

If the episode can seem like a wasted opportunity – you have so few of these left, and you do this? – it almost compensates by being jam-packed with ludicrous traps and diversions, all filmed with a psychedelic eye by David Tomblin, who had last directed “Living in Harmony.” Tomblin is credited with the original “idea,” while the script is by Terence Feely (“The Schizoid Man“). Alexis Kanner, something of a mascot in these late episodes, makes a brief cameo as a photographer at the carnival, in league with Sonia. But in many ways Lord and Griffith steal the show. Lord sports a variety of oddball Swinging London fashions, most often in white; her most memorable involves a mod white kaiser helmet which she dons while wielding a bazooka. She taunts McGoohan throughout the episode, cooing seductively while threatening him: “I love you madly. I love the way the hair curls on the back of your neck. You’ll make a beautiful corpse.” Griffith relishes playing the comic buffoon – he even gets a little bit of Three Stooges business with his Napoleon-mimicking underlings, slapping the hands out of their coats. (Originally he was to be dressed as Hitler.) The Beachy Head Lighthouse where the climax takes place was last seen in “Many Happy Returns” as the spot where No.6 washes up. An obvious model is used when it’s blown to smithereens in the climax.

The Village Story Book read by No.6.

METHODOLOGY

No.6 is reading from “The Village Story Book” which seems to consist of pictures, no text. Apart from a picture of a cricket match, the vintage illustrations have only the loosest connection to the actual story he’s telling (we glimpse them at the commercial breaks – the big clue that this story isn’t really happening). For example, a picture of an old biplane is used when Mr. X and Sonia are traveling by helicopter, and a whaler harpooning a whale stands in for the climax. Griffith’s No.2 hopes to learn something about No.6 from this elaborate story he’s concocting out of thin air. I believe there might have been glimpses of children in the background of Portmeirion footage in earlier episodes, but this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the concept of children living here. The Village can accommodate an entire life, from this nursery to the Old People’s Home to the Graveyard. At the end of the story, No.6 says, “And that is how I saved London from the mad scientist.” Looking into the hidden camera, and so directly at No.2, he signs off: “Good night children – everywhere.”

SEQUENCE

This episode was the penultimate episode to be produced and aired fifteenth in both the U.S. and the U.K. With no direct ties to any other episode, it could be moved almost anywhere in your preferred order, but there’s no need. Originally I would go from “Hammer Into Anvil” straight into “Once Upon a Time” because that seemed to have a certain momentum, but I’ve reconsidered. “A Change of Mind” and “Hammer Into Anvil” are very dark episodes, dealing with lobotomies, suicide, and revenge. “Once Upon a Time” is the most intense hour of the entire series, and “Fall Out” is heavy, man. Therefore “The Girl Who Was Death” serves a purpose when placed here: it gives us a chance to take a break, catch our breath, and have some fun before we dive into the last two-parter and go looking for No.1.

Sonia prepares to lead a race with Mr. X.

By now it should be obvious what my episode order is, so I want to lay it all out and explain the overall thinking. Some fans like to arrange The Prisoner using the production order as the best rule to follow; others prefer to look at No.2’s methods against No.6 to form an evolving narrative; still others try to follow internal clues in the series, such as calendar dates and telling dialogue. Throughout this episode guide I’ve been offering my own reasons for placing each episode where I have, and it’s been a hybrid of all three of those approaches. With this order, the series falls roughly into three phases:

I: Introductory Episodes, or: “I’m New Here.” These include “Arrival” and the episodes that the writers intended to follow “Arrival” closely. I’ve spotlighted the internal clues in my individual reviews.

P: Prisoner’s Past. Key episodes focus on illuminating who the Prisoner really is and where he came from, with visits to London both real and faked. (Yet we still don’t learn why he resigned.)

D: Destroying the Village from Within. Having learned he can’t escape, No.6 begins to sabotage and dismantle the works, which leads to a final reckoning. These episodes include the two-part finale.

Here’s my episode sequence, and you can see how the types I, P, and D roughly align to tell the Prisoner’s story.

1. Arrival (I)
2. Free for All (I)
3. Checkmate (I)
4. Dance of the Dead (I)
5. The Chimes of Big Ben (P)
6. The Schizoid Man (-)
7. Many Happy Returns (P)
8. The General (-)*
9. A. B. and C. (P)
10. Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling (P)
11. It’s Your Funeral (-)
12. Living in Harmony (-)
13. A Change of Mind (D)
14. Hammer Into Anvil (D)
15. The Girl Who Was Death (-)
16. Once Upon a Time (D)
17. Fall Out (D)

*”The General” could be listed as an early example of D.

QUOTES

Sonia: Mountaineering rope. It would hold an elephant.
Mr. X: I must remember that the next time I go climbing with one.

THE OPENING CREDITS

The famous opening titles of The Prisoner gave an early warning to Danger Man viewers that this was going to be very unique from the show they loved. Almost every episode opens with the image of storm clouds: there’s trouble ahead. Thunder crashes on the soundtrack. Then, an empty road in a desolate landscape; for a moment we see nothing, until a Lotus Seven rockets at the camera. This is the Lotus Cars test track near the Lotus factory in Hethel, Norfolk. A close-up of Patrick McGoohan follows, smiling enigmatically. As he drives through London and turns into an underground garage (located in Abingdon Street), the catchy Prisoner theme makes its debut. The theme is by Australian composer Ron Grainer (1922-1981), who is best known for the theme to Doctor Who, but was a prolific and wide-ranging contributer to British film and TV. The theme suits the personality of McGoohan’s character: confident, brash, and even reckless – there’s so much going on that it almost crosses the line into chaos. Instead, it will just get stuck in your head.

When the Prisoner enters the office occupied by script editor George Markstein’s pen-fiddler, thunder crashes again on the soundtrack as the Prisoner smashes his fist on the table and tenders his resignation, demonstrating how thunderous Grainer’s theme really is. In the rough cuts featuring the original, abandoned theme (“Chimes”) by Wilfred Josephs, the thunder is more dominant, and the music takes longer to commence. When it does, Josephs provides a very bizarre, off-kilter composition that perhaps matched the surreal tone of the series but was too discordant for what was intended to be popular entertainment. Even Grainer’s theme had to be punched up, playing too gently in its original version. McGoohan resigns before Markstein after pacing back and forth like an animal (ironic, because as production wore on, a frustrated Markstein would be submitting his resignation to McGoohan). He exits the garage in his Lotus Seven, and we see a teletype machine typing symbolic X’s across an old promo portrait of McGoohan as John Drake. The picture is dropped into a file by a mechanical arm. Danger Man is certainly finished.

Now peculiar things begin to happen. He’s followed by a Bentley (S-Type Standard Steel Saloon), which pulls up behind him when he parks on the street at his home, No.1 Buckingham Place. While he packs and the title finally appears on the screen, a tall man in a top hat emerges from the Bentley. (We’ll see him again in “Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling.”) A clue as to where he’s going: a travel brochure with a palm tree and a beach is packed in luggage. Gas shoots through the keyhole in the front door, and No.6 sways and falls. Here is where “Arrival” picks up, though in subsequent episodes we’ll get a summary of his new situation in the Village.

The flat looks the same, but when he pulls up the blinds, he sees the Village square. A globe chair rises in No.2’s quarters, beginning an intrusive theme of circles: its circle eclipses the great wheel of the penny-farthing bicycle behind it. After we see No.6 running along the beach, a bubble blossoms up from underwater, become the white sphere of Rover. The globe chair (its occupant unseen) watches Rover bounce along the beach, knocking No.6 off his feet. Another circle: the eye-shaped camera of the Supervisor’s chamber, with its see-saw apparatus which the observers ride. Back on the beach against a darkening sky, No.6 strikes out at the world: “I am not a number, I am a free man!” The dialogue over this second half of the credits is spoken by No.6 and No.2, but the No.2 is usually a generic one: Robert Rietty. This was particularly handy in episodes in which No.2’s identity is a surprise (“Many Happy Returns,” “The Girl Who Was Death”), in which case a close-up of this week’s No.2 would be omitted. Here is the full opening credits dialogue:

No.6: Where am I?
No.2: In the Village.
No.6: What do you want?
No.2: Information.
No.6: Whose side are you on?
No.2: That would be telling. We want information. Information. Information.
No.6: You won’t get it.
No.2: By hook or by crook, we will.
No.6: Who are you?
No.2: The new Number Two.
No.6: Who is Number One?
No.2: You are Number Six.
No.6: I am not a number, I am a free man!
No.2: (Laughter)

UP NEXT: ONCE UPON A TIME

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