Patrick McGoohan has died at the age of 80. I saw him once in 1982, sitting by himself at the bar in Barney's Beanery (where I was a waiter at the time). He seemed to be glaring at nothing in particular, and though I really, really enjoyed his work I did not approach him. In my memory his mild glare has become something of a scowl. He was probably just enjoying a moment of peace in the (at the time) sparsely populated bar.
His series The Prisoner was just abstract enough as to both baffle and amuse, and I always looked forward to seeing it, but could never quite say what it was I saw. Television, which could have been so many different things if it had any balls, was actually engaging and mystical for the brief run of the series. One had the sense that there were people in charge of his village who were neither kind nor sympathetic, nor could they be reasoned with. How prescient, yes?
So long, Mr. McGoohan. You have at last escaped the prison.
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His series The Prisoner was just abstract enough as to both baffle and amuse, and I always looked forward to seeing it, but could never quite say what it was I saw. Television, which could have been so many different things if it had any balls, was actually engaging and mystical for the brief run of the series. One had the sense that there were people in charge of his village who were neither kind nor sympathetic, nor could they be reasoned with. How prescient, yes?
So long, Mr. McGoohan. You have at last escaped the prison.
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