BOOK AND SAMPLE CHAPTERS
SAMPLE CHAPTER - CHECKMATE
Manoeuvring and Manipulation, Power and Pavlov.
“It was so off-beat that as I wrote ‘Checkmate’ I wondered if I had completely misunderstood the brief.” ‘Checkmate’ scriptwriter Gerald Kelsey.
“George (Markstein) thought it enormously funny that the… pawn actually thought he was playing chess.” Gerald Kelsey.
“A lot of it’s based on Pavlov, and ‘Pavlovian’ was one of Pat’s favourite words.” Tony Sloman. ‘The Prisoner’ Librarian.
“In society one must learn to conform.” Number 2.
The Games and Gamesmanship in ‘Checkmate’.
There are those who think, ‘Checkmate’, is the quintessential episode. In the five Six of One polls conducted over the decades, it has certainly proved extremely popular. It neatly captures to dazzling effect the key ingredients of the series admirably, a balance of action-adventure, psychological games, and social commentary, all fused together by intrigue. Taking second place in 1978, topping the poll in 1986, back to the runner-up spot in 1992, down to fifth in 1997, and at the 2017 Brain-Bash third. One has to agree that overall, these results do add up to a pretty emphatic case. On the surface, ultimately this episode’s story arc is structured toward an ingeniously devised escape plan, however, leaving that to one side, it really is about the psychological games that we humans play, knowingly or otherwise. Being screened after the dreamlike and highly ambiguous, ‘Many Happy Returns’, its overarching ‘mythic quest’ qualities, which poses another layer of mystification, and the perplexing, convoluted, and labyrinthine, ‘Dance of the Dead’, which is both complex and reluctant to part with its secrets, dealing as it does in shadows, ‘Checkmate’, is altogether extremely accessible, and possesses great clarity. Despite the failure of the planned escape attempt, (the last until ‘Fall Out’), the tone is far lighter and even less pessimistic. This of course is reinforced by the choices of accompanying music which add an almost playful sense, the rather jaunty, ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’, and, ‘Boys and Girls Come out to Play’, motifs particularly. Contrast this lightness with the rather dour, bleak, and, despite its flashes of humour, somewhat oppressive, ‘Hammer into Anvil’, which follows. Consider; here the plot is logically progressed and easily followed. The P learns of a method of discerning the difference between the prisoners and the warders, climaxing in an unforeseen and clever plot twist at the end. Throughout, psychological themes are well to the fore, social conditioning, power play, control techniques, and the dynamics of the various participants’ relationships. A ‘sympathetic’ view of at least a few of the prisoners, indicating that P is not alone, others, given benign circumstances, dare to reveal desires immersed and so concealed in their unconscious. Sensing a chink of possible freedom, they summon the courage to let their guard down. Then, this episode is largely sun-drenched and features a great deal of visually luscious and impressive location footage, a balance of well paced and composed interiors reminding and revealing of what lurks beneath the surface. All seamlessly further the plot. Finally, the arresting and impressive spectacle of the iconic human chess game, with its rich imagery, human interactions, indelibly imprinted upon the mind. Conceivably, more than any other episode, it would capture the attention of even the most casual of observers. Elsewhere I have counselled episodes both best suited for ‘The Prisoner’ ‘appreciator’, and a small number that may engage the first-time viewer. By far, ‘Checkmate’, with its linear plot, the various mind games, including conditioning techniques, character appraisal methodologies, and the enduring image of the human chess-game, is most likely the clear favourite to capture and enthral the novice viewer.
The writer ensures that it is starkly clear exactly what the core message of the series truly is. Kelsey has a real gift for crafting some of the most memorable lines in the series, and the viewer in left in no doubt of the series ethos, the statement from Number 2, as at top of the chapter, for example, “In society one must learn to conform.” is both explicit and unequivocal. The Queen’s very telling: “But it’s not allowed. It’s the cult of the individual,” and the Count’s: “Simple psychology, It’s the same in life. You judge by attitudes. People don’t need uniforms,” very accurately and neatly communicate and define the bare essence. There are some deftly worded exchanges, sitting in the ‘Village’ taxi, the conditioned Queen attempts to elicit some sign, some note of affection that the P might care for her. As she sniffs tearfully, his response is somewhat crushing in the extreme, “… and I’m waterproof. A light drizzle won’t wash away my doubts”. Then when the P and his co-conspirators visit Number 2, who, with a note of light sarcasm, offers: “How very primitive. You disappoint me. I would have expected you to devise something more original”. The P ripostes: “Originality’s your department…but try anything and you’ll find old-fashioned brute force is very effective”.
Relationships, role play, and the various cerebral and emotional strategies, all of which further plot development, are played out by the various protagonists and provide a compelling drama that holds the viewer’s attention. It is evident by his positive, even optimistic, and possible naïve attitude, that P is still unfamiliar with all the machinations of the ‘Village’, the script is penned as such. Like the other early writers, Skene, and Tilsley, Kelsey was under the impression that, if not screened second, then certainly very early in the series transmission order. The P is intrigued by the Man-with-stick / Count’s immunity to the power of Rover. He listens intently to the Count’s shrewd appraisal of being able to define, who is a prisoner, and who is a warder, that concludes with, “First you must learn to distinguish the blacks from the whites.” This is a defining revelation to P. He is inspired. Within the chess game other ‘games’ are being played, the pawn who offers, “I enjoy a game of chess,” the Rook’s somewhat rash actions. P using his new-found knowledge to recruit potential allies, the psychologist’s conditioning of both the Rook and the Queen, hypnosis, word association, the message that, ultimately the ‘Village’ still has complete control. Before we immerse ourselves in consideration and exploration of this perfectly balanced drama, a few helpful facts to bear in mind.
The Script Editor. George Markstein.
“‘Checkmate’ was written by Gerald Kelsey, and it’s quite a good episode I think…he was basically one of the, sort of, stalwart writers, a writer of ‘Dixon of Dock Green’. Now I cannot think of anything less like ‘The Prisoner’ than ‘Dixon of Dock Green’, but the interesting thing here is that you have someone who has written dozens of ‘Dixon of Dock Greens’ and I thought Gerald Kelsey could do a very good job on ‘The Prisoner’, because he was caught up with the police. We are all prisoners again you see.” Apparently, Markstein was so thrilled with the script he called in McGoohan who, ‘enthusiastically said the story was great’.
The writer. Gerald Kelsey.
Veteran scriptwriter, contributor to ITC action/adventure series, ‘The Saint’, etc., ‘Dixon of Dock Green’, Kelsey was a known quantity by Markstein. “I was in fact being briefed to write it before anything had been produced. In 1959 I was in Germany on holiday staying with some friends, and I went to a castle. In the courtyard of the castle, there was a chequerboard laid out, and my German host said, ‘The story is, the baron of the castle used to use his retainers to play chess, and another baron somewhere else, used to send his retainers across, and they played these matches, presumably sometime in the middle-ages. Six years or so later, when it came to write, ‘The Prisoner’, thinking of the craziest ideas you could think of, I thought of these characters on the chess board, and moving them around.”
“When George read it, I remember distinctly him looking at it, and saying, ‘the fool thinks he’s playing chess’, and he was a piece on the board, and it amused George very much, the characters were being moved around by someone. The lines in the script are: ‘Why do you play’, ‘Why not, I enjoy a game of chess’, and George thought it was enormously funny that the man who was the pawn thought he was playing chess.”
The Number 2. Peter Wyngarde.
“Pat particularly wanted me to do it, he asked me himself. He was very hazy about the whole thing in the beginning, but considered a permanent Number 2, which he wanted me to be. He really didn’t know which direction the programme was going to go in, but finally decided that a change of ‘Village’ administrator added to the air of mystery, but still wanted me. He said, ‘Play it as yourself’, which I was horrified at, as it is quite hard being yourself. It’s much easier acting! But I trusted his judgement. He was jolly secretive about the project, but I do remember that the script was stuck to rigidly. However, he did often ask me to say things in a certain way and talk slowly.” One scene that must be mentioned as it is so striking, (a new script page dated 16-8-66), yet entirely in keeping with the tenor of the series are Number 2’s yogic exercises. It certainly adds another layer of mystery to the storyline and, as with much else, was simply presented, never explained. From this we deduce that this was a discipline that Wyngarde practised in his private life. I practised for an hour each morning something which I expanded for, ‘Department S’.” With regard to the karate chop. “Pat loved authenticity. I found him very easy to work with.” Scene 128: Number 2 is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the manner of one engaged in yogic exercises. The chop is not mentioned. “The sets, especially Number 2’s room, I loved sitting in the chair watching the screen on the wall. I also found the ‘eye’ in the control room very menacing indeed.”
Act One… Let the Mind Games Commence.
As a major component that greatly contributed to the appeal and success of the entire series, and very much to the fore in ‘Checkmate’, perhaps we should understand a little about psychological processes. Psychology, defined as: the study of mind and behaviour in humans and non-humans. This includes the study of conscious and unconscious phenomena, including feelings and thoughts. It is an academic discipline of immense scope, crossing the boundaries between the natural and social sciences. Imagine, if you will, with the emergence of psychology, were there those who saw this new science might have a bright future, the promise of explaining to humanity, all its many traits, hopes, fears, and desires. The vision of a beckoning future full of understanding and world peace. However, like every discovery, it proves to be a ‘tool’ for good, and ill as in ‘Checkmate’.
Act One opens with a brief aerial view of Portmeirion, then a montage of shots that frame Rover’s path through the ‘Village’. These shots of Rover’s journey, accompanied by its menacing roar, are amongst the most impressive we see in the entire series. As the residents come within the ‘Village’ guardian’s orbit, as in ‘Arrival’, they freeze, with a single exception, who appears to have complete immunity. This character, the Man-with-stick, will play an important role, as he passes his knowledge, his deductions, to the P, who is closely watching from a distance. Sensing the significance, he follows…
In a further sequence of brief introductory establishing shots, the P (and the viewer) find themselves about to begin a full-scale human chess game. The P as the Queen’s pawn. Interspersed with the moves, and the dialogue exchanges, we learn this character is the Count, the chess champion. The P, never a man not to speak freely, quizzes the Queen. With practiced ease she deflects his question; “Who is Number 1?”, as we have seen others do in previous episodes. So preoccupied, he is unaware that, on the Colonnade, the Butler is tracking the moves on a board. Perhaps also unaware that, in the Control Room, he is being observed by the supervisor and Number 2. Independent as always, he has to be virtually prodded by the ‘pieces’ around him after repeated instructions to move are ignored. In the Control Room, there is a telling exchange:
Supervisor: “Number 6 looks very placid.”
Number 2: “He’s just a pawn. One false move and he’ll be wiped out.”
Supervisor: “Not whilst the Queen is protecting him.”
Number 2: “The Queen! She’ll take no risks to help him.”
The viewer wonders, does Number 2 mean in the game where pawns are sacrificed to protect the more powerful pieces, or in life, possibly aiding their most recalcitrant rebel in his quest for freedom? Then, we have observed the chess piece who, as Markstein pointed out, was deluded enough to believe he was a player in some way. The major characters are referred to not by their numbers but the piece they play on the chess board. Ambiguity abounds in this episode, immeasurably adding to its attraction. The Queen rather ironically performs the role of a pawn, to be manipulated by all the major players in this episode, the P, Number 2, the psychiatrist. There is a degree of conflation, a blurring between the game, and the life in the ‘Village’. It runs like a thread, culminating in Number 2’s final line regarding the fate of the conspirators, “Oh, they’ll turn up tomorrow on the chess board – as pawns”.
It is then the unthinkable happens. Summoning all his courage, the Rook marches across the board, plants his chess staff firmly in the square, with an emphatic, “Check!” Only then does his courage desert him, as realisation dawns of the consequences. With his removal, P turns to the Queen: “What was all that about?” Her response epitomises the core theme of not just this episode, but of the entire series, she precedes with an indisputable fact: “It’s not allowed.” In five words, this single sentence, will not only summarise the essence of the series, but reaches out into the viewer’s heart and beyond into the wider world where it will reverberate wherever there are those who are oppressed. “The cult of the individual.” I would argue that this episode would have more power, would have greater impact, if screened much earlier in the series. We know it was written with this in mind. Here the P is far more trusting, drinking the cocoa made by the Queen for example, whereas in other episodes he would be more cautious, a lack of awareness of surveillance beyond the obvious, tending to take matters at face value. It builds upon what we learn in, ‘Arrival’, a logical progression to the more hardened attitude and wariness we see emerge in later episodes.
Still curious quite how this fellow prisoner appears immune to Rover, P readily accepts a compliment, “You play a fine Game”. Bearing in mind that P has played the role of a pawn, directed to move by another, this compliment would appear to be a mere pretext to initiate his engagement, (for the Count has both sensed and observed P’s rebellious streak, hence the invitation), “Shall we walk?” P’s new acquaintance takes the initiative, speaking quite openly, in contrast to all inhabitants P has previously met, who are cowed by fear. Without prompting, he talks of taboo topics, which with inevitability, lead to “escape”, admitting he is too old. But P does learn a valuable lesson, how to tell prisoners from warders, their attitudes: “Simple psychology. You judge by attitudes”. The Count must be very adept at evaluating which of those he meets fulfil the criteria for one or the other. His antenna must be extremely attuned to know P is a prisoner, not a guardian performing what might be a trap. Their conversation draws to a close by a shop window. As P realises what a valuable piece of information he has gleaned, behind him, a wooden doll of the type seen in ‘Arrival’, is being placed by an unseen hand into the window. Perhaps this is symbolic? A sign that surveillance is everywhere? Or that the villagers are puppets and capable of being manipulated? This conversation may explain the Count’s immunity to Rover. Whereas all prisoners unconsciously or otherwise emanate fear, perhaps the complete confidence possessed by the Count, who still has an independent mind he scarcely conceals, arouses no interest from Rover. Given his status, harmlessness, value, and his age, possibly these traits are tolerated? Or, might there be another reason?