Carry On Jack (1964)

"And all I get is the scrubbing..."

This is not one of the well-remembered Carry Ons... and there's a reason for that. As with most of the films, it's written by Talbot Rothwell and shot by Gerald Thomas, but... well, it doesnt exactly not feelmlike a Carry On film, but... well, we've had films before with some of the regulars missing, but the only real regulars here are Kenneth Williams and Charles Hawtrey. Bernard Cribbins stars, and he's bloody good... but he's not really "core" Carry On.

That's not to say that this is in any way bad, despite its lack of any truly memorable set pieces. The script is fine, and the directing is more than fine. This is the first historical Carry On, set in the Royal Navy of Nelson's day, and it all looks great. We get all the tropes- mutiny, Spanish Armadas, pirates, walking the plany, the cat o'nine tails, press gangs. It's all good fun. But a lot of the rest of the cast... well, they're competent, but no more than that.

This is a fascinating time capsule into the Britain of sixty years ago, though. There's a fair bit of sexual innuendo here; the franchise has come a long way over its six years so far but at last the '60s have started to swing a bit. Some of the social attitudes have perhaps not aged well. 

Nevertheless, this is, well, by no means a bad film, but it's hardly going to stand out, and it's no wonder that this is one of the more obscure films in the series. Still, in opening up the way to using historical settings, it points the way forward.

The Prisoner: Hammer into Anvil

”Each man has his breaking point, you know...”

This is possibly the finest episode yet. A simple plot- Number Six is outraged at the sadistic new Number Two for goading a poor young woman to suicide and slowly destroys him through psychological manipulation- is simple.  But the slow unwinding of Number Two as he descends into paranoia and ruin is masterfully done.

This episode  is, perhaps, a different kind of surreal, all instigated this time by Number Six, listening to the same Georges Bizet record multiple times and making notes, and hiding blank sheets of paper.. McGoohan is brilliant, of course, but so is Patrick Cargill as a confidently sadistic Number Two, an assured and capable man who quotes Goethe and Cervantes in their original German and Castilian yet gradually ends up an absolute wreck.

The episode works because it consists entirely of the unwinding of Number Six’s plan, and the mystery of what he’s up to. It’s the Day of the Jackal of The Prisoner, and it’s a triumph. This is far from a typical episode (does such a thing exist?) but it may be the best yet.

The Prisoner: Many Happy Returns

”Where is this?”

Seven episodes in and I’m still fascinated in what plots can be got out of such a seemingly limited premise. This episode centres around a conceit which could be done only once; Number Six genuinely escapes-  but his own curiosity in locating the Village leads him to return in the conceptually cleverest way possible.

It’s a weird, and simple, premise- Number Six wakes up alone in the Village. No people, no Rover; nothing to prevent his escape. So escape he does, as simple as that, and we go through the motions of seeing him build a raft, stow away on a gun running vessel, make his way to an obviously real London, and speak to the rather nice lady who now lives in his flat and drives his car. So, he’s free, and that’s seemingly it- although he seems to have no close personal friends or relatives. And he certainly seems to be well-trained in the James Bond stuff. National Service, probably.

But Number Six is curious, and wants to find where the Village is. So, with help from his former establishment employers (was he a spy?) he traces its location- just outside the entrance to the Med, apparently; is this official? And, as a final act of hubris, he flies over it, only to be forcibly ejected back into the Village where he finds the same nice lady, who has prepared a birthday cake and a terrible pun. It’s all rather clever. This is another good one, even though it’s nearly 22 minutes until anybody speaks. And there’s no Number Two, no regular cast aside from Patrick McGoohan himself. Most unusual.