Once Upon A Time

Part action series, part psychedelic fantasy, part allegory, Patrick McGoohan's masterpiece, The Prisoner, was initially touted as a sequel to his earlier spy series, Danger Man. But when it was first broadcast in 1967 TV audiences were puzzled; when the show was cancelled 17 episodes later due to declining viewing figures, no one was any the wiser. Shot in the picturesque surroundings of Portmeirion in North Wales, whose architectural fantasies provided an ideal backdrop for the show's surrealism, The Prisoner has subsequently been recognised as one of the most innovative and thought-provoking series ever to be broadcast. Despite the primary-coloured flower-power look, the show's bold ideas haven't dated at all, proving that The Prisoner was simply years ahead of its time. McGoohan is Number 6, a man whose resignation from the secret service (seen every week in a montage title sequence--itself an impressionistic TV landmark) triggers his abduction and imprisonment in "The Village", a sort of open prison for spies where everyone has a number not a name. It's a pretty comfortable place and the other inhabitants all seem passively to accept the situation, allowing the Village authorities to control and limit their actions without protest (escape attempts are thwarted by mysterious bubble-shaped guards called "Rovers"). Number 6, however, is an indomitable freedom fighter whose refusal to accept the status quo is a metaphor for the individual ego struggling against the forces of social conformity: "I am not a number I am a free man" is the series' most resonant catchphrase. The Village's allegorical microcosm of society is presided over by Number 2, played by a different actor every week, with whom Number 6 clashes repeatedly in a battle of wills as he continually questions the authority that has imprisoned him ("Who is Number 1?"). In turn the Kafkaesque authorities try to discover the reason why he resigned. His trenchant refusal to provide any reason at all is itself a powerful assertion of individual freedom. The series culminates in perhaps the most bizarre and psychedelic TV episode ever made, "Fallout", in which Number 6's revelatory discovery of the real power that keeps him imprisoned raises more questions than it answers...

Primarily aimed at fanatic completists, The Prisoner 35th Anniversary Companion gives us an alternative version of the opening episode "Arrival" recently rediscovered from Canadian archival material, along with the broadcast version for comparison. The collection also has text files on associative material like the score for the music, the novelisations and the Dinky model of the mini-moke, clips of the interval bumpers, alternative clips of the opening credits and a sequence in which the opening credits shot of a filing cabinet labelled "Resignations" is reshot in a variety of languages for foreign markets. The episode included reminds us, in both its versions, what an innovative and sinister show The Prisoner was. George Baker in particular is an impressive foil to Patrick McGoohan. There are also text files on the careers of McGoohan and his collaborator George Markstein, as well as an extended interview with Bernard Williams in which he talks frankly about the difficulties of producing a show whose scripts were being written by the star as it was being shot, and tells us of the last-minute improvisation of the sinister balloon, Rover. There is also a short documentary about the show, its fans and the memorabilia shop at Portmeirion, plus a Prisoner parody Renault ad. The Prisoner 35th Anniversary Companion is presented in standard 4:3 television visual ratio; the mono sound has not worn well, especially in the alternative version of "Arrival" where it is at times painfully scratchy. The interface is user-confusing; if you don't already know the shape of The Village it is not immediately obvious that the menu continues on two screens. The packaging includes a lavish booklet that includes a facsimile of the production notes for the show.