The Number 23

The Number 23 is like a Where’s Waldo? for the cinematic set. Jim Carrey does his best to be creepy as he goes around pointing out the endless appearances of the digit throughout the film, but it still feels more like an inane game than an omen from hell. It seems that the number 23, or its reverse, 32, (isn’t that cheating?) has come to spell disaster for Carrey’s Walter Sparrow. This does effectively make you sit around counting the letters in people’s names and tallying the sum of various numbers that might happen to turn up within the film. But how long can that novelty amuse you? Besides, half the fun is spoiled since so often the number 23 just appears outright on some random set piece rather than being buried within the scene (something that might at least reward repeat viewing).

I honestly doubt that you’ll want to see this more than once, though (or at all). The film is a mash up of fun mystery and totally bogus serial killer melodrama. It’s not Carrey’s fault nor is it the fault of costar Virginia Madsen. Both gamely tackle the bizarre and silly material with utter, sometimes comically sincere conviction. In fact, not even train wreck director Joel Schumacher (the guy who made the bad Batman movies) is really to blame. He delivers a flat, heavy handed film but his flaws aren’t really what break this movie (though they obviously don’t help). There are really just too many kinks in the system for this film to land on its feet. A select audience of viewers who dig paranoia and boneheaded thrillers might be willing to embrace the wild premise, but for most people it’ll just never stop seeming as goofy as you’d think. I liked parts of this movie, mostly the early parts before it crosses the threshold into ludicrous murder conspiracies, but I wasn’t unnerved by its numerical monster one bit. It might have worked as a dark, strange, tongue-in-cheek Kaufman-esque comedy, but as a deathly serious drama it elicits far too many giggles.

The ultimate integrity offender is the script’s bad decision to visualize alternate narratives. The general premise follows Sparrow as he reads a mystery book called The Number 23 by an unknown author named Topsy Kretts (yes, it is really a play on “Top Secrets” and yes, it is ridiculous). As he reads, he begins to see a connection between his life and the life of the detective within the story, known only as Fingerling (another name too silly sounding to blend in with the dour narrative). Walter begins seeing himself as Fingerling and Carrey, Madsen, and the rest of the cast all play out the story of the text. These scenes are the most clichéd, unintentionally funny bits of bad noir I’ve scene in a long while. From the moment Carrey starts his “moody” narration you won’t be able to stop secretly giggling. Thankfully, those scenes become sparse as time goes on, letting us deal instead and with the events of the real world. The dramatic material featuring Madsen and Carrey as they cope with his onset of paranoia function better than any of the “twists” and “scares” that are stupidly dealt to the audience. The ending is leaden and foreseeable, but you won’t even really care by then. So much along the way ruins the illusion that you’ll already be disassociated from the characters. If you force yourself to really commit to the material, then there is more or less a satisfying resolution. However, I doubt many will make this leap since the whole film is really just a sloppy, manic disaster. I do think it is an ambitious disaster, though, and maybe even an entertaining disaster as well.

Grade: D+