Information gathering is the central occupation of each major character in The Prisoner. Number 6 passes his time in captivity either preparing for escape attempts or carrying them out; conversely, the administration, represented here by the Supervisor, constantly tries to force, trick, or confuse Six into divulging the secrets of his former life as a spy. The show itself is consumed by its characters’ thirst for information. In the first episode, the opposing sides first test their tools against one another as Six attempts an initial (clandestine) getaway.
At the beginning of the clip, Number Six (kidnapped and incarcerated in a creepy, too-brightly-colored, and open prison called “The Village,” where escape is impossible and the inhabitants have numbers instead of names) has just destroyed his apartment’s radio in a moment of frustation:
(The radio, remotely controlled, has neither an on/off switch nor a volume knob.) A repairman arrives instantly; the two exchange stilted pleasantries, and Six remarks that he might fancy a walk. The repairman, in perhaps the creepiest moment of the episode, replies, “Feel free.” The door swings open.
A crucial link between Number Six’s actions and his desired information is sight. Throughout the show, Six gathers information about the Village and its leadership by seeing and experiencing, always first-hand. However, the primacy of Six’s sight is challenged (or at least confused) by the prison-guard figure of Rover (the large white balloon), which seems at some points to be blind or remote-controlled, and sometimes to be self-aware, able to find and chase Six via its own observation.
Here televisual technology assists the Supervisor in gathering his information about Number 6; as we watch the Supervisor watching the Statue watching Six, the link is made explicitly between sight and information. In The Prisoner, all technology is designed for the controllers’ use against the controlled. All information gathered is, as Jane Feuer would say, “live” (16): for the Supervisor, Six’s actions createa “temporary illusion of ... being in the same ‘live’ space together, a space that we as the audience share (18)”. Given these observations, the obvious conclusion is that The Prisoner is techno-cautious: while technology is itself a more-or-less neutral force, its use does engender certain relations of power.
Intriguingly, the viewer can identify simultaneously with Six and the Supervisor. With Six, we are startled by the sudden appearance of Rover, and with Six, we feel threatened by the seeming omniscience of the administration. Yet we also understand the Supervisor’s knowing smile as he lifts the phone. And we’re reminded of David Foster Wallace’s question, “What do you do when postmodern rebellion becomes a pop-cultural institution?” (184)
When we cut back to Number Six, we enter the consciousness of someone who knows they’re being watched: the camera moves quickly, following a man looking over his shoulder and ducking behind walls to avoid the eye (2:22) of the Supervisor.
