The Prisoner: when James Bond went to Wonderland (video).
In the pantheon of British television, few shows have achieved the lasting cult status of The Prisoner. First airing in 1967, this trippy, cerebral spy-fi series still captivates viewers today with its labyrinthine plots, surreal landscapes, and mind-bending allegories. Created by and starring the enigmatic Patrick McGoohan, The Prisoner is like if James Bond, Franz Kafka, and Salvador Dalí got together for a pint and decided to make television – only to accidentally invent one of the most thought-provoking shows in British history.
It all begins with a mystery that fuels the entire series: why did the nameless hero, referred to only as “Number Six,” resign from his job as a secret agent? Before we can get any answers, he’s whisked away to The Village, a bizarrely picturesque seaside settlement where everything is just a little too perfect. The inhabitants? They’re all known by numbers instead of names. No one can leave. And no one will tell Number Six why he’s there—least of all the ever-smug, rotating lineup of authority figures, all of whom go by the title “Number Two.”
What follows over the series’ 17 episodes is a battle of wills between Number Six and his captors as they attempt to break him down, both mentally and physically. But The Prisoner is much more than a cat-and-mouse game. It’s an allegory for individuality, freedom, and identity—questions just as relevant today as they were during the Cold War-era paranoia of the 1960s.
At its core, The Prisoner is a show that refuses to be pinned down by genre conventions. On the surface, it’s a spy series, but the further you delve into it, the more it morphs into a philosophical exploration of society’s obsession with conformity and control. The Village itself is a microcosm of this theme: a utopian nightmare where the residents stroll around in colourful uniforms, smiling benignly while Orwellian surveillance cameras track their every move. There’s even a giant balloon-like security system, Rover, which tracks and neutralises anyone foolish enough to attempt escape. Yes, it’s a balloon, but somehow, The Prisoner makes it terrifying—another testament to the show’s bizarre genius.
Then, of course, there’s Patrick McGoohan himself. Already a household name thanks to his earlier work in Danger Man (or Secret Agent, depending on where you watched it), McGoohan brings an intense, simmering performance to the role of Number Six. He’s sharp, rebellious, and—most importantly—uncompromising. If you were hoping to see a hero who breaks under pressure or is willing to compromise for his own survival, look elsewhere. Number Six’s constant refrain of “I am not a number, I am a free man!” became the rallying cry of the series, and McGoohan’s ironclad refusal to give in is what keeps viewers rooting for him even as the show descends deeper into surreal territory.
And, oh, does it get surreal. From episodes involving mind control and doppelgängers to dream sequences that blur reality and imagination, The Prisoner never hesitated to push the boundaries of what television could be. One of the series’ most infamous episodes, “Living in Harmony,” ditches the spy-fi format entirely and thrusts Number Six into a Western, complete with gunfights, cowboy hats, and a showdown in the saloon. And yet, somehow, it still works. Because in The Prisoner, the genre is just another layer of the illusion—another way to manipulate Number Six’s sense of reality.
Speaking of reality, let’s talk about the finale: “Fall Out.” Now, if you haven’t seen it, I won’t spoil the whole thing (if that’s even possible), but let’s just say it’s one of the most polarising endings in television history. After 16 episodes of intrigue and paranoia, viewers were treated to a climax so baffling and surreal that it left people either scratching their heads or throwing their TV sets out the window in frustration. McGoohan, ever the provocateur, crafted a finale that was intentionally ambiguous, forcing viewers to come to their own conclusions about the nature of The Village and Number Six’s ultimate fate. Was it all a metaphor? Was he ever truly free? Or was the whole thing one long, existential joke?
Whatever your interpretation, there’s no denying that The Prisoner was ahead of its time. In an era where most TV shows wrapped up neatly by the end of the hour, The Prisoner was bold enough to leave its audience questioning not only what they had just seen, but also the very nature of authority, free will, and self-determination. It was as much a social commentary as it was a spy show, foreshadowing the modern era of prestige television where ambiguous, open-ended storytelling is now the norm.
The show’s impact on pop culture has been profound. From references in everything from The Simpsons to Lost, The Prisoner has cast a long shadow over the world of television. Its iconic visual style, from the surreal architecture of Portmeirion (the real-life location used for The Village) to the unforgettable Rover, has cemented it as one of the most visually distinctive shows of the 20th century. Even the dialogue—especially Number Two’s chilling line, “We want information… information… information!”—is the stuff of legend.
Fifty-plus years on, The Prisoner remains a television landmark, a show that dared to ask big questions in a medium that, at the time, was more concerned with solving a crime-of-the-week than challenging the viewer’s very perception of reality. And while it may be a product of its time—full of 60s-era espionage tropes, Cold War anxieties, and psychedelic flair—it still resonates today, perhaps even more so in an age where surveillance, data privacy, and individual rights are more contested than ever.
So, if you haven’t yet spent time in The Village, it’s never too late. Just remember: you are not a number. You are a free viewer.
