THE UNMUTUAL PRISONER ARTICLE ARCHIVE
THE PROJECTION ROOM (The Prisoner Compared...)
VILLAGES AND CITIES:
THE PRISONER AND METROPOLIS COMPARED
Andrew K. Shenton
Say the word, “Metropolis” to any science fiction enthusiast who has some awareness of the genre's history and they will almost certainly think at once of the 1926 German film directed by Fritz Lang. An early work of dystopia, it is regarded in many quarters as one of the landmarks of SF cinema. Given that the first dystopias cited by Steven Fielding featured in his study of the form in Britain did not appear until the 1940s, 1 we may feel that, for all its well documented flaws, the movie was ahead of its time. People are much less likely to remember the similarly named accompanying novel by Thea von Harbou, Lang's then wife. Indeed, it goes unmentioned in Brian Aldiss's authoritative history of science fiction, 2 despite the fact that he refers to the film at several points. Until two repeat broadcasts on BBC Radio 4 Extra in August 2023, as part of an “all request weekend”, the 2006 sound adaptation of Metropolis by Peter Straughan seemed equally lost in the mists of time. It was never transmitted in the intervening years and it is not acknowledged in Guy Haley's book of science fiction timelines. 3 When introduced in advance of the second 2023 broadcast, the announcer described it as an adaptation of von Harbou's book, rather than a reworking of the film. Comparisons of the Metropolis movie and The Prisoner have been made elsewhere. For example, Chris Gregory, who concentrates on the “look” of each production, notes Metropolis 's visual influence on the latter's interior, studio-based designs and the resemblances between the film's sequence in which a robot is brought to life and the mind-swap scene in Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling . 4 In this article, though, it is the radio version of Metropolis that is under consideration. Parallels between its plot and The Prisoner are striking.
The hero of Metropolis is twenty-five-year-old Fredersen, an inhabitant of the eponymous city of the future. A privileged citizen whose father occupies an important position in the hierarchy, he spends little time at work and much on pleasure. Fredersen is bored and, after an unsuccessful suicide attempt, swaps roles with a worker of low status. In his new place of employment, he attracts the attention of Maria, who enlists him in a subversive group she calls “the new brigade” and who masterminds various acts of civil disobedience. As the brigade's plots become more violent, the perpetrators are labelled “terrorists” in the media for the first time. It is apparent, however, that Maria has been replaced by an android double and what would appear to be dissident acts are actually the work of the authorities. Those in charge have long been aware of the danger posed by individual “disconnects” and have brought them together in a group (or “brigade”) that can be managed, with the intention of ultimately destroying the resistance movement. Appalled by these discoveries, Fredersen takes revenge on the authorities by blowing up their headquarters, where his father is based. We are left to wonder, though, whether this action is simply further playing into the regime's hands.
Listeners to Metropolis and fans of The Prisoner will quickly identify a range of parallels between the two works but it is in the latter's episode, It's Your Funeral where the similarities between Patrick McGoohan's programme and the radio production are most marked. Here and in Metropolis , disinformation is discussed as a weapon against the authorities. In The Prisoner , Number Six learns that accounts of fictitious plots are spread by “jammers” to waste the time of the observers, and dissidents in Metropolis plant bogus news stories in order to “jam up” the wheels of state communication. What we might term “the resistance movement” is at best unconventional. In Metropolis , a unified revolutionary force has been assembled by the authorities themselves and, as Ian Rakoff points out, in It's Your Funeral , the “underground” simply does not exist. 5 In both stories, acts of apparent terrorism are encouraged by community leaders and each features a death-by-violence scenario. We may feel, however, that the philosophies behind the two dramas cannot be reconciled. Matthew White and Jaffer Ali see Michael Cramoy's script as “strongly aligned with nonviolent protest”, 6 whereas in Metropolis , Fredersen believes that his final act of rebellion is necessary, especially if he is to reassure the real Maria that the resistance remains active. This stance would seem more consistent with the attitude to force evident in Fall Out . Still, even here there are clear differences. In the Goodman interview, McGoohan acknowledges the role of violence in effectively “clearing the air” and returning the situation to “square one”. 7 Yet, we may doubt whether the destruction that Fredersen intends will result in a comparable reset.
Aside from the fact that armed revolt forms the ultimate response of Fredersen and Number Six, there is little to link their behaviour. As early as the first episode of The Prisoner , The Village's authorities attempt to ensnare Number Six using an attractive woman – a theme that resurfaces in various subsequent instalments. Our hero, of course, deftly avoids such traps. In Metropolis , though, it is not long before Fredersen becomes captivated by Maria. In contrast to the aggressive individualism of Number Six, Fredersen is a weak character driven only by his love for Maria and his desire to feel part of a crowd. In Fredersen's own words, he leaves one elite to join another. He is no independent rebel in the mould of Number Six but both are unusual among citizens in being able to recognise the actual situation that pertains in their society. Whilst The Prisoner stays chaste throughout, we learn almost immediately that Fredersen is promiscuous. It is hard to determine whether this is part of Fredersen's natural character or whether his conduct is routine in the upper classes within the society in which he lives. It may even be the result of state conditioning. Despite the many differences between Number Six and Fredersen, it takes no great imagination to picture the former adopting the tactics Maria demands from the brigade in Metropolis – namely adding emetics to officers' coffee dispensers, “breaking the news” through jamming and practising subliminal subversion – as part of some broader campaign akin to his systematic destabilising of Number Two in Hammer Into Anvil . Indeed, in The General our hero attempts – albeit unsuccessfully – to replace an intended “Speedlearn” broadcast with a revolutionary message from The Professor.
In The Prisoner and Metropolis , those in power use similar strategies to maintain control. Surveillance by video cameras is inescapable in the former and in the radio play citizens are watched constantly and their telephone calls are overheard. Drugs also feature prominently in the authorities' efforts to perpetuate the status quo. An important point of departure between the two worlds, however, is that Metropolis is riddled with rampant commercialism, and it is here where the psychological conditioning of citizens is most obvious. Much of the uniformity that characterises Metropolis derives from advertising that compels consumers make identical purchases. The promotion of various products is excessively intrusive, and the rights of those who push them are enmeshed within the state to such an extent that people must by law listen to the publicity given to them in telephone calls.
We can draw parallels between the subliminal techniques employed in Metropolis and the “Speedlearn” strategy we see in The General , although in each case the hero eventually seeks to use the communications infrastructure for his own ends. It is not difficult, either, to envisage some of the principles underpinning Metropolis as they are understood by Maria being presented as what Tim Palgut terms Village “scriptures” in The Prisoner. 8 “Profit maximisation is the natural goal of society” springs particularly to mind. Even if the worlds of The Village and Metropolis are very different in many ways, it is pertinent to remember that, in the Troyer interview, McGoohan – possibly jokingly – attributes the submissive, brainwashed nature of The Village's inhabitants to being exposed to “too many commercials”, 9 and Metropolis's fashion of the week bears comparison with The Village's ice cream “flavour of the day” promotion that is announced in Arrival . Moreover, if we accept the idea postulated by White and Ali that The Village could be led by a “multinational corporation”, 6 links between Metropolis and the society depicted in The Prisoner may be greater than any first examination suggests.
Perhaps the most obvious similarity between Metropolis and The Prisoner lies in the authorities' use of numbers to represent people. In the former, this is largely limited to the working class. For the most part, it goes unimposed on those with a privileged status; they are never required to cite such identifiers even though they have been assigned them. When he assumes his new identity, the hero becomes 11811. In The Prisoner , only a handful of those who become personally involved with the hero are identified by name, most obviously Nadia and Alison. A comparable pattern is prevalent in Metropolis . Here Fredersen meets protagonists such as Maria, Georgi and Josaphat.
Infiltration is another strategy common to the two dramas. In The Prisoner , some Village guardians pose as normal citizens; by the end of Metropolis , it is clear that robots have been planted in much the same way. Fredersen's psychological conditioning has prevented him from learning the truth until this point. In both narratives, impersonation is a ploy exploited by and against the rebels. Maria does not know Fredersen's true identity until he makes his admission in the final stages of Metropolis and he himself is shocked by his discovery late in the play that she is no more than a robot. In The Prisoner , Number Six masquerades as others in such episodes as The General , The Schizoid Man and, most effectively, Hammer Into Anvil . Yet, he finds himself duped when in Free For All and Many Happy Returns Number Two is revealed to be a woman he has come to know in an entirely separate capacity.
Our search for similarities in the approaches of the authorities should not blind us to their significant differences. We witness physical beatings and assaults by Rover in The Prisoner but, until the dying moments of Metropolis , there is little obvious force on display in the city, and the ultimate sanctions that are available to the ruling elite go undisclosed. Even when the dialogue and action are dissected with forensic attention, there are no real clues. Other important contrasts arise, too. The nature of the “clones” we see in The Prisoner has long been a matter of debate and our inability to arrive at an unequivocal explanation enables the programme to retain a certain mystique; in Metropolis , we are left in no doubt that Maria's double is a robot copy.
It is often said that the concerns which emerge in many dystopias reflect those of the period when they were written. As Christopher R. Tame reminds us, “Orwell's 1984 was actually a portrayal of the political essentials of 1948”. 10 Some issues highlighted within dystopias are timeless and arise in many places and eras. The unending tension between the state's need to impose conformity and the individual's desire for personal freedom is effectively dramatised in The Prisoner , whilst more specific issues such as the tendency of government to reduce people to mere numbers are, if anything, of greater relevance now than they were in the 1960s. In both productions, oddities like unfamiliar language, different social customs and more advanced technologies emphasise the “otherness” of the societies portrayed and obscure their contemporary basis. Tracing the real life concerns of the radio version of Metropolis is further complicated by the fact that several owe their origins to the era in which von Harbou's novel first appeared, and others – especially the intrusive nature of telemarketing and the danger of a government siding with aggressive commercial enterprises, rather than acting in the interests of the citizen – are perhaps more obviously twenty-first century matters. In the words of the BBC Web site, our hero is “caught up in a nightmarish world all too recognisably drawn from the one we find ourselves in today”. 11 To paraphrase Tame, we may say that here, too, the trend of the present is embedded within the society of the future. 10
References
• 1 Archive On 4: Very British Dystopias. BBC Radio 4. Broadcast 15 June 2013. URL: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b02x5c9z (accessed: 22 August 2023).
• 2 Aldiss, B.W. and Wingrove, D. Trillion year spree: The history of science fiction . Victor Gollancz: London, 1986.
• 3 Haley, G. (ed.) Sci-fi chronicles: A visual history of the galaxy's greatest science fiction . Aurum: London, 2014.
• 4 Gregory, C. Be seeing you... Decoding The Prisoner . John Libbey Media: Luton, 1997.
• 5 Rakoff, I. Inside The Prisoner: Radical television and film in the 1960s . Batsford: London, 1998.
• 6 White, M. and Ali, J. The official Prisoner companion . Sidgwick and Jackson: London, 1988.
• 7 McGoohan, P. On the trail of The Prisoner: Roger Goodman talks to Patrick McGoohan . CD. PrizBiz, 2007. Audio recording of 1979 interview.
• 8 Palgut, T. The Prisoner: The Village files . Titan: London, 2003.
• 9 Interview With Patrick McGoohan. URL: http://www.difference-engine.co.uk/library/mcgoohan.html (accessed: 22 August 2023). Transcript of 1977 Troyer interview.
• 10 Tame, C.R. Different values: An analysis of Patrick McGoohan's The Prisoner. Libertarian Reprints , 1, 1983. Reprint of 1974 work.
• 11 Metropolis . BBC. URL: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001p7vh (accessed: 22 August 2023).
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