In that final episode, Fall Out, all caution is set aside, and the show goes utterly crazy. Number Six is taken to a cave complex below the Village where he is respectfully set upon a throne. Since he's defeated Number Two, he's earned the right to choose his fate -- either leave the Village or rule it. A democratic assembly of freaky dudes in black and white masks and hoded robes sits in court, poised to rubber stamp whatever gets decided down there. A lot of chaos and heavy handed symbolism ensues. Three exemplars of rebellion are put on display -- a young man in a top hat with a fondness for humming bars of "'Dem Bones" represents the wayward rebelliousness of youth, who revolt against everything without knowing why. Then Leo McKern is brought back from the dead and dragged before the assembly as an example of a man of the political establishment who "bit the hand that fed him" by rebelling against the system from within. McKern, who had sold out to the Village, regretted the decision. And then there's Number Six, who, it is claimed, is a different kind of rebel, a rebel of noble individualism, who has rebelled for the "right reasons". As the superior individual, he's earned the right to assume the role of soverign over the Village. If there's a place for the Individual in The Village, it's as a figurehead. But when he's asked to speak before the assembly of shrouded ones, he can't get a word in. As soon as Six tries to make a point, the assembly shouts him down -- one supposes in agreement. It's a moment not unlike the scene in Monty Python's Life of Brian, where Brian is instructing the minions to think for themselves, and they all parrot his words back at him, in unison.
Anyway, Number Six is a smart cookie, and he obviously sees the sham for what it is, so he goes off on his quest to bring the house down and confront Number One -- the mysterious figure who's never been seen or heard from the entire series. You figure, in the hierarchy of Villagers, Number One must be top dog. Number One, it turns out, is living inside a rocket. He too, is masked and hooded. Number Six rips his mask off, only to find another mask -- that of a chattering chimp. He then rips this mask off, and lo and behold, it's the spittin' image of Number Six himself -- albeit an insane cackling freakazoid Number Six, who escapes up the hatch and locks himself inside the nosecone of the rocket. The episode then turns into a wacky "escape from the Village" sequence -- where Number Six frees Leo McKern and the Young Rebel, and they shoot up the whole works with automatic weapons, while the Beatles "All You Need Is Love" plays in the background. The three rebels, along with the midget butler, escape via an apartment on wheels, just in time, for Number Six has wired the rocket to auto-launch. The Village is evacuated in a panic, and the rocket blasts off, presumably with Number One inside. We never find out where anybody goes or ends up, nor do we find out who runs the Village, or why.
We do get to see our Rebel heroes returning to private life. The Young Rebel gets dropped off on the highway, where he no doubt will hitch a ride to nowhere. Leo McKern returns to the Houses of Parliament. And Number Six, along with the midget butler, returns to his townhouse, where he speeds away in his racecar. The butler, who's standing at the doorway, enters the house. But the front door opens on its own, just as the doors automatically opened in the Village. Oooo...spooky. And that's basically it.
Very little of this makes sense. And Patrick McGoohan, who wrote the final episode, obviously was writing about as fast as he could think. While it's satisfying to have the series end with finality, it's so over the top, so slapdash, that it's laughable -- a campy final chapter. A disspointment? Maybe.
But maybe it's better to set the criticisms aside and see "Fall Out" as a great moment in TVland history -- a time when anything you could think up was worth a shot. The Prisoner achieved that rarefied height in the TV atmosphere -- a place beyond continuity and disbelief -- a place where imaginative play trumps logic and genre. What could television have become had there been more shows like The Prisoner? It's a tantalizing question that can't be answered.
And what of Number One after all? Well, this one was left WAY open to interpretation, but here's my stab. The unmasking of number One is a big practical joke played on Number Six. Number One is the rocket itself, and the technology it symbolizes -- or, more properly, Number One is the animal inside us (symbolized by the chimp mask) that enslaves itself to the technologies of control and coercion. We all think there's a number one, ultimately, but Number One is really you scamming yourself and being controlled by your own technology
http://www.turksheadreview.com/touchstones/2002/prisoner-thoughts.html
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