Once you get past the absurd concept that the protagonist of Danger Man, John Drake (Patrick McGoohan), is supposed to be an American secret agent, you’ll have a good time with this series. McGoohan is many things, but an American he is not.
Pre-dating the first James Bond film by just a year, Danger Man is a fun, fast-paced series. In fact, when the producers of Dr. No were trying to find their James Bond, McGoohan was considered for the role, and it’s easy to see why. He’s cold and cerebral, but convincing as a man of action. He also conveys something few actors can - cognition. He’s always watching, listening, thinking, deciding who to trust and which way to jump. The show is well-written and well-made, but much of the urgency and tension is generated by McGoohan’s edgy performance.
Each episode is half an hour, so the pacing is brisk. A typical episode begins with Drake journeying to a foreign country on a mission (i.e. stock footage followed by a small set in England doubling for the location). Sometimes Drake recovers a stolen piece of microfilm. Sometimes he breaks up a spy ring, or a band of drug smugglers. Sometimes he solves a murder, or prevents one - but he rarely commits one.
In fact, Drake doesn’t carry a gun and doesn’t bed any of the lovely ladies he encounters - conditions McGoohan imposed on the producers before accepting the role. Instead of undercutting the character, these conditions define him. He won’t use violence unless he absolutely has to, and his dedication to his mission renders him completely asexual. He can’t afford to become physically or emotionally entangled with anyone. Throw in a few obligatory fist fights, top it all off with a brassy main theme, and you’ve got a solid, entertaining show.
On a side note, fans of The Prisoner - which I reviewed here - have speculated that Number Six is meant to be John Drake. After all, Number Six was a spy, and we never learn his true name. Putting aside the fact that McGoohan played both roles, the two characters share a number of catch phrases (”Be seeing you”) and mannerisms. Including them in The Prisoner couldn’t have been an accident. At the very least, the character of Number Six grew out of John Drake, so if you’re planning to Netflix Danger Man, go ahead and add The Prisoner to your queue while you’re at it.
The final episode of The Prisoner was so confusing and controversial that creator / star Patrick McGoohan reportedly had to go into hiding until the furor passed - and in the intervening years, the series has lost none of its power. Having just watched it for the first time, I felt compelled to find him and admonish him for taking me on such a bizarre, compelling, and ultimately frustrating journey. Of course, were he still alive, McGoohan would kick my ass.
For the uninitiated, The Prisoner is the story of a British spy who abruptly retires for reasons unknown. Almost immediately after handing in his resignation, he is kidnapped and taken to a mysterious island where ex-spies are held prisoner in a community known as “The Village.” He is assigned a number instead of a name - Number Six - and is placed under constant surveillance. Every week, a new administrator - Number Two - is assigned to The Village, and attempts to break Number Six with drugs, psychological warfare, torture, you name it. Unsure if he has been kidnapped by his own side or an enemy, Number Six staunchly refuses to answer any questions, but repeatedly asks one - who is Number One?
Due to his popularity on British television in the spy series Danger Man (in fact, some Prisoner fans theorize that Number Six is actually the same character from Danger Man, John Drake) McGoohan was given complete creative freedom on The Prisoner, and he certainly made use of it. The stories are elliptical, the dialogue is cryptic, the performances are theatrical, the camera is restless, the editing is frantic, and it blends just about every genre you can think of. One minute it’s a spy thriller, the next it’s a satire, then it’s science fiction - and in one episode, it even becomes a Western! It’s an allegory about power and free will, it’s a commentary on society, religion, education, nuclear war and just about anything else you can think of. It’s as if Patrick McGoohan realized he would never get an opportunity like this again, and poured everything he wanted to say and do into this one project.
As a result, you’ve got a wildly uneven show that sometimes strikes creative gold, and sometimes falls flat on its face. Out of the seventeen episodes of The Prisoner, half of them are downright terrific. The other half - in particular the final two episodes - are so determined to break with convention they end up completely alienating the audience. An apt comparison is Twin Peaks, a show that began with one foot in reality and one foot in David Lynch’s bizarre imagination, but eventually became completely surreal. Did I understand what McGoohan was trying to say in the final episode? Yes. Was it emotionally satisfying? No. Film - especially television - has to do both. 
For years, I’ve been saying that Lonesome Dove needs to be remastered. It was shot on film, finished on film, and with today’s technology could look infinitely better than the original transfer done in 1989.
The instant I saw that Centennial was coming to DVD, I added it to my Netflix list and eagerly awaited its arrival. Why, you ask? 
Centennial is not something you undertake lightly…