Twenty-three is apparently the linchpin of the entire universe, or so Walter Sparrow (Jim Carrey) believes, in this dark thriller from the man who camped up Batman & Robin (oh Joel Schumacher, no-one will ever forget your sin).
Based on the already popular belief that a number is connected to just about everything, The Number 23 concerns Walter and his perusal of a book his wife (Virginia Madsen) buys for him, which just happens to be about a detective (also Jim Carrey) with a lot of similarities to himself, and an obsession with a fatal number.
As Walter becomes more obsessed with the book and the titular number, more truths are revealed about his own past, making him question his sanity and memories, and putting him on course to a series of events that may or may not lead to murder.
It looks great: dark, brooding, full of people writing on walls (does nobody own a notepad?). Walter’s obsession is tangible, and Carrey really is at his best when he’s doing drama. But it’s not quite the brilliant madness of The Truman Show or Eternal Sunshine: he looks like he’s slotted himself into the genre and is reading from the script, rather than immersing himself in the role. He does good, but it’s a bit blank, and his over-the-top detective is uneasily close to his usual rubber-faced caricatures.
The film has a wonderful build-up – the story twists and turns around itself, with great editing to allow the narrative to unfold. But once it gets there it hits a stumbling block. Not a large one, admittedly, but for such an ingenious story (or maybe because of it) it’s unable to come up with a satisfying conclusion, and instead bounces to an uneasy halt.
All in all, it’s quite good. You’ll never guess what’s going to happen next, and that’s what keeps you watching, but the ending is a disappointingly unfortunate conclusion for what could have been such a perfect film
Based on the already popular belief that a number is connected to just about everything, The Number 23 concerns Walter and his perusal of a book his wife (Virginia Madsen) buys for him, which just happens to be about a detective (also Jim Carrey) with a lot of similarities to himself, and an obsession with a fatal number.
As Walter becomes more obsessed with the book and the titular number, more truths are revealed about his own past, making him question his sanity and memories, and putting him on course to a series of events that may or may not lead to murder.
It looks great: dark, brooding, full of people writing on walls (does nobody own a notepad?). Walter’s obsession is tangible, and Carrey really is at his best when he’s doing drama. But it’s not quite the brilliant madness of The Truman Show or Eternal Sunshine: he looks like he’s slotted himself into the genre and is reading from the script, rather than immersing himself in the role. He does good, but it’s a bit blank, and his over-the-top detective is uneasily close to his usual rubber-faced caricatures.
The film has a wonderful build-up – the story twists and turns around itself, with great editing to allow the narrative to unfold. But once it gets there it hits a stumbling block. Not a large one, admittedly, but for such an ingenious story (or maybe because of it) it’s unable to come up with a satisfying conclusion, and instead bounces to an uneasy halt.
All in all, it’s quite good. You’ll never guess what’s going to happen next, and that’s what keeps you watching, but the ending is a disappointingly unfortunate conclusion for what could have been such a perfect film
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