The 7 Ages of the Prisoner (pt. 7)

School Days--Episode 6--The General

As episode 6 starts, school is still in session and exam time is fast approaching. The Village is abuzz over a new propaedeutics of history taught by The Professor (seen on the poster below). The Professor and an unknown someone called The General (mentioned briefly in the previous episode) have created a way for students to learn an entire 3 years course in a matter of seconds. The Prisoner, as is his wont, remains sceptical.

And, as is my wont, I don't wish to go into an extended plot synopsis. My aims in not going into too many details of the 'this happens and then this and that causes so-and-so to do this which then...' of the plots of each episode is partly to avoid spoiling the episodes for those who may not have yet seen them (and it's my fervent hope that the upcoming remake will attract a sizeable new audience to Patrick McGoohan's masterpiece) but also because each episode is usually so rich with meaning, so dense with symbols that trying to encapsulate every twist and turn of each story will cause this already monstrous essay to grow completely out of control.

So with that said, I fear that because of the nature of this episode, and how its philosophical underpinnings relate to the journey of the initiate Prisoner, I may have to reveal the identity of the General in the course of this essay. I've avoided embedding entire episodes in our discussions of them as it hasn't seemed necessary. Although I can't imagine why anyone would be reading this if they weren't already a fan of the Prisoner I'm going to embed The General here so that if you haven't yet seen the episode you may, if you wish, watch it now. (Full disclosure: I can't imagine why anyone would be reading this at all, for any reason.)

Of course you may also wish to turn off the computer, go outside, kiss a lovely person of your preferred sex, and dance beneath the stars. If so, I will make no attempt to stop you.

SPOILERS BELOW:

According to Duncan, in the Masonic ritual of the 2nd degree the Senior and Junior Deacons have the following interaction:

SD: By what further right, or benefit does he expect to gain admission?

JD: By the benefit of a pass

SD: Has he that pass?

JD: He has it not, but I have it for him.

SD: Advance, and give me the pass.

JD whispers 'Shibboleth'

As we have seen, in order to gain access to The General, the Prisoner has been given passes by a young administrator called Number 12. It should be noted this is the same number given to the evil twin Prisoner in Schizoid Man. Whether this is coincidence or intentional, I don't pretend to know.

As the initiation portion of The General begins, we see men in top hats marching past a stairwell, as though in imitation of the 2nd Degree tracing board.

The stairwell being that which brings the candidate into Solomon's temple. The men in top hats travel through the inner chamber.

We've had brief cause to discuss the two images above. The purpose of the top hat is to shield the face of the Worshipful Master from the light in the east. Tellingly, in addition to the top hats the Village board members also all wear dark glasses. The Prisoner adopts this disguise in order to break into the temple.

You will note that his number is 56. In Thelema the number 56=Nu, or Nuit, which is far too complex a subject to do anything with now except mention it as a tease and to give me cause to quote:

"Enough of because! Be he damned for a dog!"--Liber AL val Legis (the Book of the Law)

In his introduction to Neal Wilgus' The Illuminoids, Robert Anton Wilson observes: "Everything you fear is waiting for you in Chapel Perilous, but if you are armed with the wand of intuition, the cup of sympathy, the sword of reason, and the pentacle of valor, you will come through it all safely." The General, through its enactment of the Prisoner's initiation into the second degree, is a ritual in which the candidate must use the sword of reason. Unable to do so effectively in Schizoid Man, (which coincidentally or not shows the Prisoner fencing with himself) the Prisoner has progressed and performs his duties admirably in this episode.

The Prisoner crosses the 4th Threshold

The Prisoner has proved himself by his answers to questions (or his not answering them) but by the end of the episode, posing them as well. The General, it turns out, is in fact Wolfram Alpha 0.1, able to answer any question. Well, any question save one.

The question which the Prisoner poses, and which fries The General's circuits, namely, "Why?" is the envenomed tip of the sword of reason. Why did 'why' destroy the General? Because the answer to any 'why' question is an infinite regress of 'because' 'because' 'because.' Eventually the answerer will either return to the first because in the series or collapse into an exhausted, "I don't know, honey, please shut up now."

Philosophically and psychologically speaking the only acceptable answer to the Prisoner's question is, "Because I choose to." And why do you choose to? "For no reason whatsoever." This, then, is the causeless cause, the supernal darkness from which the supernal light chooses to emanate, the reasonless reason the Word is spoken.

to be continued--be seeing you!

The 7 Ages of the Prisoner (pt. 8)

Episode 7--School Days Are Over--Many Happy Returns

"Oh Lord, my God, is there no help for the widow's son?"

In his volume on initiation, Rene Guenon goes considerably out of his way to differentiate between initiation and mysticism. I'd be a fool not to defer to M. Guenon's expertise in such matters, however it can be said that both mysticism and initiation are similar in that they both can often instill a powerful, and paradoxical, sense of isolation and strangeness into the seer or initiate. It's as though the world of cause and condition has been pulled out from under the initiate's feet and he or she seems to stumble through an empty world of sleepwalkers and robots. It's similar to the existential crises' that many young people go through. An awareness of both the meaningless decrepitude of material posession, counterbalanced by an idealistic vision of what could be, with the passionate hope for its future accomplishment.

This is the world to which our pilgrim Prisoner awakes to at the start of Many Happy Returns. School is out, and our initiate stands alone. No longer a boy, but not yet a man.

Please note the red and white banners on two of the portico's columns. These colors will be repeated throughout the episode, notably on a lighthouse and, appropriately enough, a milk truck.

The Masonic organization for young men, the Order of DeMolay, gives mention to these two colors in a lecture known as the flower talk:

The Order of DeMolay teaches many beautiful lessons, but none is more important than honour and true respect for womanhood, and more especially for motherhood. It is fitting, therefore, that you have been called upon to stand again before this altar in a few moments of special emphasis upon the virtue which has been given first place among the jewels adorning the Crown of Youth: Filial Love.

For my purpose now, this altar is dedicated to our mothers, whose love never fails. You may rise to positions of great influence in commercial, political, or professional life, but you can never reach the heights of your mother's secret hopes for you. You may sink into the lowest depths of infamy and degradation, but never below the reach of her love. The memory of it will always stir your heart. There is no man so entirely base, so completely vile, so utterly low, that he does not hold in his heart a shrine sacred and apart for the memory of his mother's love....
It was your mother who loved you before you were born--who carried you for long months close to her heart and in the fullness of time took God's hand in hers and passed through the valley of shadows to give you life. It was she who cared for you during the helpless years of infancy and the scarcely less dependent years of childhood. As you have grown less dependent, she has done the countless, thoughtful, trouble-healing, helpful and encouraging things which somehow only mothers seem to know how to do. You may have accepted these attentions more or less as matters of course, and perhaps without conscious gratitude or any expression of your appreciation. You are rapidly approaching the time in life when you will be entirely independent of your mother. The ties with which dependency has bound you to her may be severed as you grow older, but the tie of mother-love can never be broken....
These flowers which you see on our altar are symbols of that mother love. The white, the love of the mother who is gone. And the red, the mother who still lives to bless your life....[*]

Directed by Patrick McGoohan under the pseudonym Joseph Serf, Many Happy Returns, is a distinctive and first-rate example of the Prisoner's art. If there'd been any doubt as to the allegorical nature of the Prisoner's story, this show should help to dispel it. No words are spoken throughout the first 20 minutes or so. As a sign in the village shop proclaims, "Music says it all."

The Prisoner awakens to an empty village. After wandering for a while, he becomes convinced that it's not a trick, that he really is on his own. He begans gathering materials both for his escape and as proof of the Village's existence.

Building another boat, the Prisoner sets sail. As in any good coming of age yarn, he encounters deprivations and bandits, Bohemians and small acts of kindness that sustain him. Eventually he finds his way back to the front door of his former residence. Bearded, haggard, and decrepit, he eventually is able to convince the apartment's current occupant, the stylish widow, Mrs. Butterworth, that he is indeed the former owner.

As an aside, Mrs. Butterworth's is an American brand of maple syrup, whose Willendorf Venus-esque shaped bottle is something of an advertising icon. Who else but could be the surrogate mother of 'flapjack Charlie?'

This Mrs. Butterworth is more Twiggy than Butterfly McQueen, however. Svelte and dressed in Carnaby street threads, she feeds her prodigal visitor, taking evident maternal delight both in his stuffing his face and just the fact that he is there, safe and sound. She feeds and clothes him, and he is on his way.

Returning to his former post he is unable to convince his superiors of his ineffable experience or the reality of the Village. So it is for the traveler recently returned from Magonia attempting to prove the reality of his experience to the hardheaded scientific materialist or hidebound arch-bishops of the status quo. Whereas he considers his photographs, logbook, and copy of the last edition of the Tally-Ho as substantial proof, his superiors view it as only gossamer evidence.

But eventually they humor him and plot out the probable location of the Village. As part of my general no-spoilers policy I'll end the discussion here, noting only that the Prisoner is tricked into returning to the Village, appropriately enough on his birthday, March 19th.

He is risen, like new, and Spring blossoms upon the world.

To be continued--be seeing you!

The 7 Ages of the Prisoner (pt 9)

Episode 8--The Sighing Lover--Dance of the Dead

"And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges." Shakespeare

Each episode of the Prisoner operates on at least three levels. These are the three chainsaws I'm juggling throughout our discussion of the show. The first chainsaw in the air is the story of the Prisoner himself: plot, pacing, backstory, chronology. It is the mundane way of interacting with art through immersion and identification in search of chills and spills and plenty of thrills. Nothing wrong with viewing the Prisoner, or Citizen Kane for that matter, in such a way of course, if that's what you want to do.

Proponents of this view usually place Dance of the Dead as the second episode, shortly after Arrival, due to the Prisoner making several comments about how he is new to the Village. I believe this is an error as the story of the Prisoner is cyclical, not linear. As we saw in the previous episode, he is re-newed in this episode. He had left the barren winter wasteland of the village, but now has returned from the dead, bringing spring and renewal. This, then, is the secret meaning of the penny farthing and the spiraling whirligigs of parasols we see twirling throughout the show. It is Hamlet's mill, the umbrel of stars which hang upon the axis of the pole star; the streaming pastel banners that the spirits of the dead use to dance around the Maypole before reincarnating. So, of course, Number 6 keeps saying he is new in the Village. He is, for he is continually being created, dying, and being reborn.

The second chainsaw I have up in the air at the moment is the tale of the Prisoner as a moral biography of a man. It is the Shakespearean seven ages blueprint, and in DOTD the Prisoner is now the lover, sighing like a furnace. He is, as it were, a young man, recently returned home from his University wanderings. His recent birthday has brought him into his full maturity and he is the prototypical angry young man, full of piss and vinegar and ready to take on the world.

His mum is no longer the affectionate Mrs. Butterworth but is the new Number 2, an androgynous crone creepily portrayed by Mary Morris. She encourages the Prisoner to find a nice girl and settle down, and the Village suddenly seems to be teeming with spritely young vixens all vying for his attention. Even the post of Control is now filled by an attractive woman instead of some creepy weirdo. Of course, the Prisoner purposefully expresses interest in the one woman Number 2 doesn't want him to choose, his observer, Little Bo Peep.

In case you've forgotten, the tale of Little Bo Peep:

Little Bo Peep

She lost her sheep

And couldn't tell where to find them

Leave them alone!

And they'll come home,

Dragging their tails behind them.

Aleister Crowley explains, not entirely unseriously:

'Bo' is the root meaning Light, from which spring such words Bo Tree, bodhisattva, and Buddha.

And 'Peep' is Apep, the serpent Apophis. This poem therefore contains the same symbol as that in the Egyptian and Hebrew Bibles.

The snake is the serpent of initiation, as the Lamb is the Saviour.

This ancient one, the Wisdom of Eternity, sits in its old anguish awaiting the Redeemer. And this holy verse triumphantly assures us that there is no need for anxiety. The Saviours will come one after the other, at their own good pleasure, and as they may be needed, and drag their tails, that is to say those who follow out their holy commandment, to the ultimate goal.

Which leads us to he third chainsaw, and the most dangerous one: the esoteric drama of the Prisoner's initiation. DOTD sees our hero as on the verge of making significant progress in his development. He must run the gauntlet in order to make it through the looking-glass, which he does both literally and figuratively, as it turns out. Number 2 points out to him that he only escaped the trial because his pursuers did not know he was already dead. But, paradoxically enough, through that death will come fertility. For such is the purpose of the sacrificial lamb.

Preparing to Cross the Fifth Threshold

Episode 8--Dance of the Dead

  

to be continued--be seeing you!