Fingerling grows up to become a detective, now also played by Jim Carrey, who has an encounter with a blonde woman who also kills herself over her obsession with the number 23—not the book, the actual number. See, there are lots of connections to the number that it is semi-officially called an enigma. Add up dates of certain events (9/11/2001, Hitler's birthday 4/20/89, the Oklahoma City bombing 4/19, and others that play over the opening credits), and the sum is 23. Funny coincidence, and enough to get Fingerling and Walter heading towards insanity. Schumacher and cinematographer Matthew Libatique film the childhood scenes of the book in an odd story-book idealism and Fingerling's early detective career with overly saturated lighting. It's an obvious, unnecessary juxtaposition, and the way the book's look begins to mirror the style of the real life sequences plays out the same way.

Just as obvious and in tune with Schumacher's sensibilities of approaching dark material is an overabundance of blood red. The walls of Walter's living room, a blanket while reading the book, the cover of the book are all the symbolically weighted color. Fortunately, Phillips' script and the way it weaves in and out of fantasy and reality keeps everything slightly more intricate than Schumacher's color palette and ambient lighting. There are a lot of 23 sightings to be done here, and not just what's pointed out to keep things moving. I suppose that's a bit of fun, but then again, how interesting can the story actually be if more time is spent looking in the background for hidden number messages than actually trying to decipher what's going on? It's not particularly necessary to pay too much attention, though, because once the big twist occurs, Phillips' script spends a lot of time explaining every detail. The clarification is redundant; it's fairly clear what the truth behind the scenario is once a vital piece of information is revealed. Schumacher's attempt at fitting lighthearted music into what a voice-over tells us (and what obviously) is not the happiest of endings is more than a little disconcerting.

Carrey does fine by the material. Virginia Madsen's newly found type-cast role as the supportive wife is pushed to new limits of plausibility, but while The Number 23 certainly doesn't work, it is somewhat of a harmless diversion. It did make me think of this: There are four letters in my first name, and six in my last. Four and six combined is 46, which is 23 times two. I have no clue what that means.