There were several very interesting exchanges in our comments sections this past week, including productive discussions of Andrew Breitbart’s journalism, our analyses of the new ABC-TV series FlashForward, and the life and work of actor Edward Woodward.
The most impressive contribution, however, was Steve Titch’s comments about our articles on the AMC-TV miniseries The Prisoner. Titch clearly knows a great deal about the original 1960s version, and he brought that knowedge to bear in making the case that the remake is simply horrible. For the full exchange, click here. Here’s Steve’s initial comment:
While I know you are not praising AMC’s The Prisoner, you still are being way, way too kind. I am having a hard time recalling any series remake or reboot that was so badly done and so thoroughly missed the theme or the spirit of the original. Let me begin by saying that the original Prisoner probably is my all-time favorite TV series, so I will cop to being one of those fans who takes what some would call a “proprietary interest” in the show. That said, I am not dogmatic about it. What many fans consider philosophical depth was often a matter of meeting a production deadline. The final episode of the original series was written in a rush and suffers from it. Even the iconic Rover balloon was a last-minute improvisation because of on-the-set problems. Any additional symbolism (society smothering the individual?) comes from the viewer.
The original series, however, intentionally mined some topical ideas about the role of the state. Central was whether the progressive idea of the state as an agency that provides cradle-to-grave security and care for its citizens, extending to use of science and medicine to “improve” human potential the eradicate perceived “frailties,” is at odds with the classical liberal idea of the state as protector of basic human freedom. Given that this debate is once again at the political and cultural forefront, the series was ripe for updating. That, plus the failure of several past efforts at revival, is why fans such as myself eagerly awaited AMC’s reimaging.
Six hours later, my question was “what were these guys thinking?”
There’s a story told about producer Jon Peters, who at one time, had the rights to do a Superman movie. This was just after the Tim Burton’s Batman (1989) came out and was a big hit. Peters reportedly told a studio honcho that he wanted to do Superman in the same vein—filled with darkness and angst. To which the studio honcho, who apparently knew much more about Superman than Peters, answered, “Jon, Batman is about angst, Superman is about hope.”
The Prisoner is about head-on individual resistance to seemingly beneficent societal conformity. That conflict underlined the dramatic tension of every episode. Successive No. 2s attempted to break No. 6, but not in a brutal, repressive, 1984ish way. They wanted No. 6 to accept the situation of his imprisonment and simply fit in. The social pressure in the Village was to surrender one’s mind and one’s self; to abandon objectivity and critical thinking and trust No. 2. Indeed, in several episodes various minor characters are flummoxed as to why 6 persists in resisting. In the Village, cheerful submission to the collective was the supposed path to peace, fulfillment and social “mutuality.” “Questions are a burden for others. Answers a prison for oneself,” goes one Village epigram. And, as the various No. 2’s would often ask or imply, why fight for freedom when one is not free anyway? Or, as another character put it, “We’re all pawns.”
No. 6 never accepts this. And at the end of most episodes (a few were fought to a draw), No. 6 affirmed his individuality and exposed weaknesses in the Village’s collectivist system. The final episode is not as enigmatic or ambiguous as some recall. While No. 6 escapes the Village, the ending suggests the Village was a microcosm of the world. Number 6 remains a “Prisoner,” as the end titles show. Yet in the final shots, the series ends as it began: his car roaring down the highway, followed by a close-up of his face bearing an expression of resolute determination. 6’s redemption is in his refusal to quit his battle.
All of this was done in the context of the popular TV spy genre. The format allowed for thrills, adventure, wit, even satire. No. 6 was a rugged, yet sophisticated action hero, akin to John Drake in Secret Agent, but an identifiable archetype all the same. His character, as a former spy, was given the traits needed to sustain extended resistance: physical endurance, a high threshold of pain, training to counter psychological interrogation, and, in an attribute Patrick McGoohan brought to the role, a strong moral center. No. 2, as 6’s weekly antagonist, had the full power of the Village’s social, technical and psychological mechanisms at hand, but, as we saw each week, he was vulnerable because he did not have full authority. That belonged to the unseen No. 1.
AMC blew it from the start. We don’t know who James Caviezel’s No. 6 is, and for the bulk of the series we never find out. As in the original series, he is psychologically and pharmaceutically manipulated, but he does not have the sense, strength or integrity to turn the tables on his inquisitors like the original 6 could and did. We have no clue to the new 6’s motivations, which is why the whole story just drifts. In the end, it’s arguable that the story isn’t even about 6, but about No. 2 and his own plan to “escape” the Village. No. 2 wins, No. 6 loses, as does every character who trusted 6 or looked to him for help.
And for all that, No. 2 is just as much a cipher. The Village itself isn’t real, but the sub-conscious construct of his wife. The “it’s-all-a-dream” resolution, the bane of every creative writing teacher, is used in the worst way, letting the writers wave away all storytelling logic. After that, any thematic coherence goes out the window. If this is all a dream, why does 2 care about what No. 6 or any of the other so-called “dreamers” think or believe? Why is there a clinic? If all Villagers simply are subconscious constructs, why do they need to be under surveillance? Why do they need Rovers to keep people from escaping, especially if Mrs. No. 2 can, in her mind, change the physical geography and infrastructure (oceans appear and disappear; buildings are repaired overnight; houses spring up when they are needed, etc.).
I would agree that the scene in the church you discuss (and give the writers too much credit for), was one of the few moments when the new series’ ideas approached that of the original, but to me it was more of the case of the blind squirrel who finds an occasional nut. Surrounding it we had rusted anchors in the desert, a brother-who-was-not-a-brother, and a shimmering specter of World Trade Center-like twin towers, all to go with a whole lot of disjointed scenes and dialogue that made no sense and ultimately had no point.
Most offensive of all was the unbelievably passive No. 6. He stands by as two sympathetic characters, one a toddler, tumble down holes to their death. When a confused, troubled teen-ager sets out to murder his gay, thirtysomething lover, 6 does not intervene. This same teen, 11-12, No. 2’s son, goes on to kill his mother and hang himself. But I guess we’re supposed to give 6 a flyer because (ha ha!) 11-12 never really existed (and I will leave untouched the subject as to whether adult-teen sex, gay or straight, has a place in The Prisoner).
While I can sometimes forgive bad writing and poor choice of stories (Superman III, Wolverine), I am angered when filmmakers seek to cash in on a much-loved, well-respected entertainment legacy and go out of their way to trash it. The intelligent and vocal Prisoner fandom that has grown over the past 40 years guaranteed producers a built-in audience, a fact that no doubt helped secure the financial backing for the production. They owed fans better. But, as Ayn Rand once wrote, some people want to ride the bandwagon and spit at it, too.
I’m still confused as to whether the producers of the new Prisoner overthought the concept and went wildly off the tracks, or, as you have often noted about other contemporary movies and TV shows, deliberately chose to invert the original’s premise to bow to conventional elitism that sees life as meaningless and principled individualism as pointle
ss at best and dangerous at worst.In the end, the result was a cynical, nihilistic, hate-filled mess.