Escaping Genre's Village: Fluidity and Genre Mixing in Television's The Prisoner
2005; Wiley; Volume: 38; Issue: 5 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1111/j.0022-3840.2005.00149.x
ISSN1540-5931
Autores Tópico(s)Social and Cultural Dynamics
ResumoTelevision genre theorists such as Jason Mittell have recently exploded the previous understanding of TV genres as fixed text-based categories, and have begun to reconceptualize genre as a fluid process informed by production and audience. In his essay, "A Cultural Approach to Television Genre Theory," Mittell argues that "texts exist only through their production and reception, so we cannot make the boundary between texts and their material cultural contexts absolute. Genres transect these boundaries, with production, distribution, promotion, and reception practices all working to categorize media texts into genres" (7). Mittell contends in his "discursive approach" to genre that "we need to look beyond the text as the locus for genre and instead locate genres within the complex interrelations among texts, industries, audiences, and historical contexts" (7). For Mittell, genres are fluid, transitory, and never stable. This fluidity of genre is central to the experience of television. According to genre theorist Jane Feuer, one of the most common characteristics that makes television genres unique is TV's ever-present tendency to cross genre lines, such as with the combination of the crime show, soap opera, and documentary style in Hill Street Blues (158). In Jason Mittell's conception of genre, cross-genre mating in TV is embraced as a normal outgrowth of the intertwining of industry and audience in genre production (6). Thus, Jason Mittell has constructed an intriguing method of viewing genre in television. Unfortunately, in his largely theoretical essay, Mittell is not able to give many examples of how his new conception of television genre works in practice. Although he seems open to examining TV genres with individual case studies, most of his analysis is focused on how larger genre categories are defined, such as with the development of the music video genre in the 1980s. He is less clear on how to approach a series or individual episode in terms of genre analysis. This article will examine the 1960s British television show The Prisoner (premiered 1967 in England and 1968 in United States) to explore the effectiveness of this new model for investigating television genre when applied to a single series. Following Mittell's lead, the genre construction will not be solely dependent upon the series' texts. Rather, the production history of The Prisoner within its 1960s cultural context will be probed. This examination will demonstrate how this British series became known as a genre hybrid that combines elements of the spy thriller and science fiction genres. The role of critics and the audience in defining this show according to multiple genres will also be considered. Finally, this article will examine how production, text, and audience can all interact within a single episode of the show. The discussion is intended to demonstrate how genre mixing can also occur in a distinct manner on the level of an individual episode, even within a series that is so inherently fluid in genre. By examining The Prisoner according to production, text, and audience, it is hoped that the strengths of Jason Mittell's conceptualization of television genre will become apparent. Before beginning an analysis of the various production, textual, and audience concerns revolving around The Prisoner, it seems appropriate to first explain the concept and plot of the show. The show involves a man in the employ of the British government, Patrick McGoohan, who is kidnapped after a sudden resignation. The nameless man wakes up and finds himself now a prisoner inside "The Village," a strange, secluded town where every need is provided for him, but where he is also kept under constant surveillance. The captive protagonist, who is called simply Number 6 by all of the inhabitants of The Village, has been brought to this mysterious town because of the top-secret government information that he holds in his head. The Village is run by Number 2, a role that is played by a different actor in almost every episode. Each episode involves a conflict between Number 6 and Number 2. Number 2 uses various methods of trickery, often with the assistance of Village accomplices, to make Number 6 reveal why he resigned from his top-secret post. Each episode (until the series finale) ends with Number 6, "The Prisoner," ultimately remaining trapped in The Village, the prisoner of a faceless and unknown Number 1. Thematically, The Prisoner deals with very Orwellian themes, such as the place of the individual in modern society and that individual's struggle to retain his or her identity. In fact, a line that is repeatedly uttered by Number 6 at the beginning of episodes is, "I am not a number. I am a free man!" Throughout the series, it becomes clear that The Village is a metaphorical manifestation of the world at large. Each episode deals with particular themes pertinent to the society of the 1960s, such as mob mentality and election politics ("Free For All"), rote education ("The General"), and mind control ("A, B, & C"). Each episode invariably celebrates the individual's ability to stave off conformity and think for himself or herself. Critics and fans have long viewed The Prisoner as a complex show that mixes seemingly disparate genres. Tony Williams notes the show's use of conventions from the 1960s spy genre, calling The Prisoner"a response to Cold War discourses and the James Bond cycle" (48).1 Positioning the show as Cold War fable is understandable given the text's implication that Number 6, often presumed to be an ex–secret agent, is retained in The Village by an unknown side in this international conflict. In fact, the location of The Village is suggested to be both in England ("Fall Out") and on the other side of the Iron Curtain ("The Chimes of Big Ben"). The tie-in to nuclear proliferation in the Cold War even appears in the final episode, "Fallout," when Number 6 activates what seems to be a missile in an underground bunker. Understanding The Prisoner as part of science fiction also seems appropriate given many of the themes and elements of mise-en-scéne in the show. As noted by Steve Neal, science fiction in cinema often deals with issues such as the tension between the private and public (103). This subject is also important to The Prisoner. Likewise, science fiction often involves fictitious science and invention (100). In The Prisoner, the presence of automated doors, bizarre policing devices (such as "Rover," a round white ball that floats around The Village, trapping dissidents), and strange futuristic sets certainly give the series an appeal to science fiction fans. As noted by television scholar Mark Siegel, the genre of science fiction can also be divided into subgenres that mix science fiction with other genres such as the spy show. As examples, he cites Get Smart and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (91). The Prisoner could feasibly be lumped with such hybrid science fiction shows in order to explain its many spylike elements. Although popularly accepted elements of these genres of the spy and science fiction show are contained within the series, the texts themselves do not create these genre placements, for in Mittell's words, genres "can't reproduce on their own" (6). Where do these categories applied to The Prisoner originate? Are these categories sufficient to contain all of the genre elements that exist within The Prisoner? Or is the show such a mix of different genre elements that it is impossible to categorize? There is no simple answer to these questions. To understand the mixing of different genres in The Prisoner, Mittell's conception of genre as "discursive practice" must be used. More specifically, the complex production history of the show and the production process's interaction with its audience must be closely examined. One of the primary differences that has been noted between film and television is the general assumption that there is no clear way to discuss authorship in TV. Because most shows can have different directors, writers, sponsors, guest stars, and sometimes even lead actors from episode to episode, it seems difficult to determine whether a single unifying vision for a show is ever employed by an "author" (Flitterman-Lewis 221). Although Mittel, in his assessment of how to analyze genre, does note the importance of industry personnel in the mixing of genres (especially when in response to an audience), his breakdown of the analysis of production leaves little room for such an authorial vision (7). To a certain extent, such a devaluing of authorship is appropriate in The Prisoner. After all, the series contains many contributions from various talented individuals. However, The Prisoner is unusual as a television show in that it has been largely treated by fans, and by many involved in its production, as having had an author: Patrick McGoohan, the actor who plays Number 6 in the series. McGoohan not only acted in the show, but he also wrote or cowrote many episodes, served as one of the directors (often under pseudonyms), and even sat in on some of the editing. According to producer David Tomblin, "The style of the series was really [McGoohan's] baby" (Phillips and Garcia 264). Camera operator Jack Lowin also views the series as largely McGoohan's conceptualization. Lowin insists, "Patrick was very heavily involved with everything. It was, in a sense, a one-man band. The idea was Pat's, and only Pat really had this particular concept of the thing" (265; italics in original). Before the first episode of The Prisoner was aired, McGoohan reportedly claimed, "If people don't like it, there's only one person to blame—me!" (Fulton and Betancourt 354).2 Although some individuals involved in The Prisoner have contested McGoohan's claims of primacy over the project,3 ITC, the show's production company, sold McGoohan as the man behind The Prisoner in its promotional materials. Its ads explained that the show was "devised by Patrick McGoohan himself" (Carrazé & Oswald 220–21). Thus, McGoohan has largely been assumed to be the major prevailing influence on the show. If McGoohan was the primary creative force behind The Prisoner, to what extent is his influence felt in the mixing of genres that is so prevalent in the show? McGoohan's high-profile place in the production of The Prisoner had an immense impact on the understanding of the show in terms of genre, although not necessarily in ways that McGoohan intended. In fact, one of the primary reasons that the show is considered to fall within the spy thriller genre is McGoohan's star power. According to Mimi White, star power "will presumably attract a ready-made audience and will be even more meaningful to the viewer who already knows and admires the actor and the character he or she plays on another TV program" (193). Before The Prisoner, McGoohan was principally known for playing international spy John Drake in the popular British TV series Danger Man (known as Secret Agent in the United States). During the early 1960s, such spy characters were the number one heroes in popular literature (Baudou 204). McGoohan was so associated with this role of the secret agent that he was actually the first choice to play James Bond, but he turned down the role (White and Ali 123). After working on Danger Man for years, McGoohan tired of the role of John Drake and wanted to do something that was "a complete break away from the Danger Man thing" (Goodman). He took his idea for The Prisoner to the office of Lew Grade, the president of the production company ITC and one of the men behind Danger Man (Phillips and Garcia 263). Although some believe that the idea for The Prisoner was a pure follow-up to Danger Man, a story about what would happen to John Drake if he left the secret service (265), McGoohan has stated that this was not his intention. He asserts that Number 6 absolutely was not meant to be John Drake. He claims that people assume that Number 6 is John Drake because of McGoohan's association with Danger Man (White and Ali 178). In fact, he contends that the show itself never even makes it explicit that Number 6 was a secret agent; he could have been from any number of top-secret careers (Goodman). This assertion is confirmed in an unnamed document created by script supervisor George Markstein to explain the concept of the show to prospective writers. In the document, no reference is made to Number 6 being a spy. The document only expresses that he "held a highly confidential job of the most secret nature" (reproduced in White and Ali 135–40). Nonetheless, despite McGoohan's desire to make The Prisoner into something more than a spy thriller, he was unable to shake his Danger Man association. Thus, McGoohan's image as the man behind this project actually helped to cement its connection with the spy genre, ironically against McGoohan's will. Factors other than McGoohan's previous career went into the perception of The Prisoner as a continuation of Danger Man. Similarities within the shows themselves also helped to cement their correlation. For example, as noted by David Buxton, in one episode of Danger Man entitled "Colony Three," John Drake dashes behind the Iron Curtain to discover the location to which hundreds of British citizens have disappeared. He eventually finds himself in a town that is populated with the missing British. They have been placed in this town by the Soviets to construct an authentic British community. This town is then used to acculturate Soviet spies who will later infiltrate England. None of the British townspeople is ever allowed to leave (88–89). This engineered town is quite similar in concept to The Village of The Prisoner. Additionally, Portmeirion, the exterior location of The Village, was actually used as a Danger Man location site in 1959 (White and Ali 130). Finally, upon finishing Danger Man, McGoohan used many members of his former show's crew and creative team for The Prisoner (120). Thus, there are many connections between Danger Man and The Prisoner that make it likely that they will be joined forever in public memory. The Prisoner was also deemed a spy show largely because of the marketing of the show by ITC. In one trailer, a voice-over explains the show's concept: "In an attempt to escape from a world of secret agents and double dealing, Patrick McGoohan finds himself imprisoned in a strange village. Why? How? Is told in this exciting new series: The Prisoner."4 With its references to secret agents and Patrick McGoohan, this trailer clearly positions the show as a spy thriller for fans of Danger Man. Likewise, a second trailer for the series only shows the images of the opening credit sequence, in which Number 6 resigns. The nondiegetic voice-over speaks to Number 6: "A lot of people are curious about what lies behind your resignation. They want to know why you suddenly left. A man like you is worth a great deal on the open market. The information in your head is priceless. I don't think you realize what a valuable property you've become." In this trailer, no explicit reference to spies is made, but the trailer avoids using any images of the television show that would interrupt the understanding of The Prisoner as a spy thriller. There is only veiled information about a man resigning his job and having valuable information in his head, an implicit reference to a secret agent story. Thus, audiences were likely to understand The Prisoner as a spy thriller not just because of the former involvement of "Danger Man" himself, but also because the trailers for the series constructed an image of the show that very much suggested secret agents. The extent to which this formulation of The Prisoner as a secret agent story was successful is apparent in audience reactions to the final episode of the series. In this episode, "Fallout," Number 6 enters a high-tech cave to finally discover who Number 1 is: the person running the village. This episode takes a very surrealistic turn. When Number 1 is finally revealed, the show moves into the realm of metaphor. Number 1 is not some nefarious archvillain like those found in James Bond films. Rather, when Number 6 pulls off the mask of Number 1, he sees himself staring back at him. In McGoohan's words, the message is clear: "Each man is a prisoner unto himself" (Goodman). After this unveiling of Number 1, however, irate viewers in England tied up the broadcaster ATV's switchboard because of dissatisfaction and confusion over the show's ending (Phillips and Garcia 268). According to McGoohan, "when the last episode came out in England, it had one of the largest viewing audiences, they tell me, ever over there, because everyone wanted to know who Number 1 was, because they thought it would be a 'James Bond' type of Number 1. When they did finally see it, there was a near-riot, and I was going to be lynched. And I had to go into hiding in the mountains for two weeks, until things calmed down" (Troyer). The public reaction to the ending of this show only further demonstrates how this series was understood by audiences to be part of the spy thriller genre. When it failed to fulfill their expectations, people were irate. No single factor within the text of The Prisoner led to it being constructed as a spy show. Although there are certainly textual elements that encourage this understanding, many other factors, including production factors, star power, and audience reaction, work together to define this show as a spy thriller. But does this analysis of The Prisoner as only a spy thriller really do justice to the show's complex mixing of genres? Although much of the text, production, and response of the audience construct The Prisoner as an example of the spy genre, various characteristics of the show also place it squarely within science fiction. Aspects of the text itself, such as the theme of the private versus the public and the presence of strange scientific inventions and sets, suggest science fiction (Neal 100–03). Such textual elements have led science fiction fans to call The Prisoner their own. The Prisoner, however, was not characterized as science fiction solely because of its textual attributes. Many factors in the show's production also led to the association of The Prisoner with science fiction. According to Ian Rakoff, an editor and story contributor to the show, many who worked on the series viewed it as science fiction. Rakoff and other technicians saw the show as "an enigmatic, contemporary science fiction series" (24). This view of the show as being solidly tied to science fiction can be partly explained by the presence of art director Jack Shampan, who created the futuristic look of the village, complete with automatic doors and seats that are raised and lowered using hydraulics (Rakoff 165). According to Shampan, in fact, many of the designs he used in the show came from drawings that he had previously made for a stalled science fiction film project. He simply transplanted them into The Prisoner (166). Thus, many of the ideas inserted into the look of the show were consciously influenced by science fiction. As a result, the show is often cited within fan-aimed science fiction publications such as Science Fiction Television Series and The Sci-Fi Channel Encyclopedia of TV Science Fiction. To a certain extent, the science fiction characteristics of the show were used to advertise the series. For example, although in one of the series trailers, The Prisoner is directly connected to secret agents through voice-over, some of the images contained within the trailer do hint at the show's science fiction elements. The trailer shows brief shots of Rover, the spherical Village enforcer, and the futuristic office of Number 2, complete with a chair that lifts out of the ground. The trailer also has a brief shot of Number 6 attached by electrodes to a piece of futuristic-looking equipment. Thus, although the trailer is primarily structured to sell the series as a spy show, secondary elements allow science fiction characteristics to seep through. Although it is not entirely clear, The Prisoner may have even been sold to CBS partially as a science fiction show. According to Patrick McGoohan, ITC president Lew Grade met with the senior vice president of CBS, Michael Dann, to sell him on the concept of The Prisoner. Dann was reportedly so excited by the project that he agreed to buy five other series sight unseen. According to McGoohan, these programs were "rubbish" and included a show about UFOs (Goodman). Thus, although it is not clear exactly how Grade pitched The Prisoner to CBS, it does seem significant that he attached a UFO series to his Prisoner sale. It seems probable that Grade was promoting the show at least partly as science fiction. It is ironic that although many involved in the production of the series consciously constructed and promoted The Prisoner to the audience partially as a science fiction show, the man most associated with the creation of The Prisoner is deeply dissatisfied with this label. When asked whether he minds that The Prisoner has been labeled a science fiction show, McGoohan, in his interview with Roger Goodman, stated that such a label displeases him. According to McGoohan, "It was never intended to be that. I don't think it has anything to do with science fiction. It's a moral and social comment." In fact, if McGoohan had to choose one word to describe the series, the word would have nothing to do with science fiction or even spy thrillers. The word he would choose is simply surrealistic (Goodman). Nonetheless, because of elements within the text, the production of the series, and the audience's reception, The Prisoner is conceptualized as at least partially a science fiction series. Thus, as expressed in the made-for-fans documentary Prisoner Home Companion, this series is viewed by contemporary audiences as both a spy thriller and quintessential sci-fi.5 Examining The Prisoner in terms of text, production, and audience can inform the understanding of its blending of genres. In the structuring of the overall series, it is clear that the primary creative force of the show, Patrick McGoohan, did not want The Prisoner to be categorized as part of any particular genre. Regardless of his desire, however, various elements of the texts, the response of audiences, and the production and promotion of the show led to The Prisoner being understood as an example of a genre hybrid: the spy thriller and the science fiction show. Does this hybridity still apply when one particular episode of the larger series is examined? Does this individual episode necessarily conform to the boundaries of genre that characterize the entire series? By investigating one particular episode of The Prisoner, "Living in Harmony," I hope to demonstrate how conceptions of genre can become even more complex on the level of the episode. Through my examination of this Western-themed installment of The Prisoner, I will show how the principal genres of the series can be playfully recombined with other genres at the level of the individual episode. Such genre mixing at the episode level, when examined according to text, production, and audience response, especially within the social context of the episode's production, can further buttress the overarching themes and meanings of the series as a whole while defending against the pigeon-holing of such a complex show into a single genre category. On a textual level, "Living in Harmony" is unquestionably structured as a Western. The episode primarily takes place in an American frontier town and includes much of the iconography of the Western. Men wear guns and cowboy hats. Horses are ever-present. Townspeople relax in a local saloon run by a beautiful woman. A corrupt judge (David Bauer) runs the town, and a stranger takes it upon himself to clean up the corruption. Such a setup is reminiscent of any number of film and television Westerns. However, this is indeed an episode of The Prisoner. This installment is built in such a way that the various thematic concerns of the series can be explored within a generic context largely detached from the spy thriller or the science fiction genre. In this story, the stranger is Number 6, the corrupt judge resembles Number 2, and the town of Harmony stands in for The Village. The entire episode involves the judge's efforts to get the stranger to take back his gun and badge in order to serve Harmony—a structure that corresponds to the efforts of Number 2, in various other episodes, to convince Number 6 to serve the community of The Village. In fact, the episode begins in a way that parallels all other episodes of the show. In a deviation from the normal opening credits, "Living in Harmony" opens with the resignation of a mysterious man from his duty as sheriff. As he walks out of town, a group of desperados overpower the man and haul him into the town of Harmony. In this opening sequence, the resignation montage that begins each Prisoner has been transformed. This sets the tone for the rest of the episode and prepares the viewer for the Western format that will be used to further explore the themes that are central to The Prisoner series at large. Once the use of the Western genre in "Living in Harmony" is established, it quickly becomes clear that the themes of The Prisoner series are strikingly similar to the themes of many Westerns. Genre critics have often defined Westerns according to their use of thematic oppositions, such as the individual versus the community, freedom versus restriction, self-knowledge versus illusion, integrity versus compromise, and self-interest versus social responsibility (Neal 135). Such binary oppositions are also central themes in various episodes of The Prisoner. The entire series is about an individual maintaining his freedom and integrity in the face of a restrictive community that insists on cooperation and conformity. In the episode, the judge/captor in this Westernized Village attempts to manipulate the stranger into taking up his badge and gun for the sake of Harmony. The stranger resists and instead fights to escape the oppressive town. Because of the insertion of a female love interest, Kathy (Valerie French), the stranger reluctantly agrees to become the sheriff, but he refuses to wear his badge and carry his gun at the same time. After the judge sends a crazed sharpshooter, "The Kid" (Alexis Kanner), to kill Kathy, the stranger finally agrees to pick up his pistol, but as he does so, he tosses his badge aside. He will not fight in the name of the corrupt community. He wins his shootout with Kathy's murderer, but the judge's men eventually gun down the stranger. At this point, the Western town is revealed to be a counterfeit. Number 6 wakes up in a Western set that is constructed in The Village, complete with cardboard cutouts of all of the characters in his apparently drug-induced hallucination. The entire scenario has been played out in his mind, largely through the manipulation of Number 2, who played the judge; Number 22, who was Kathy; and Number 8, who acted the part of "The Kid." Number 6 managed to resist their attempt to break him and finally separated his own reality from illusion. The other participants, however, are not so lucky. Number 22 discovers that she developed feelings for Number 6 as the stranger in this phony reality. Likewise, Number 8 could not separate himself from his psychotic character. At the end of the episode, Number 8 kills Number 22, paralleling the hallucinated scenario. On a textual level, "Living in Harmony" works well as an example of how the imposition of a new generic structure within such a hybrid series can actually reinforce the meanings of the series as a whole. But what else can be learned from this mixing of genres when production and audience are also examined within their social contexts? Various factors contributed to the creation of this Western hybrid episode of The Prisoner. One of the primary elements lies with McGoohan, who simply had a desire to act in a Western (Carrazé and Oswald 224). Of course, more pressing production needs beyond the wishes of The Prisoner's leading man also helped to bring about this unique episode. Put simply, the show needed more ideas. When McGoohan originally pitched his idea for the show to Lew Grade, he only intended the series to be seven episodes. Grade, however, wishing to sell the show to buyers in the United States, said he needed more than seven episodes. He requested twenty-six, but McGoohan feared that the show's concept would not sustain itself for such a long period, so the pair compromised at seventeen episodes (Phillips and Garcia 266). This compromise, however, led to a problem. McGoohan needed more scripts to fill the remaining episodes of the series. He quickly solicited episode ideas, and soon "Harmony" emerged. McGoohan essentially thought of "Living in Harmony" as a padding episode that bent the concept of the series to get the required number of shows. According to McGoohan, the goal of this show (and the other padding episodes) was to "make them as visually exciting as possible but still retaining within them part of the theme of violence doesn't pay off" (Goodman). Thus, McGoohan and his coworkers tried to keep this extra episode consistent with the show's basic parameters, while allowing the episode to explore themes appropriate to the series' ideological stances. From this point of view, using a Western format to explore social commentary seems like a logical choice. After all, Westerns on television (and on film) have long been tied to social commentary. In fact, according to Horace Newcomb, television Westerns during this period highlighted protagonists who "stood against the unruly, irrational, immoral, excessively and illegally violent villains, outlaws, and psychotics who threatened life on the fictio
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