Today Kim and I watched most of The Number 23
, that tense paranoid thriller-drama inexplicably starring a totally serious Jim Carrey.
It's like the Blair Witch Project, in the sense that it's one of those movies that people watch it and either rave about it and love it, or they just hate it to the core. I remember The Number 23 getting such polarized reviews back when it came out, but I only watched it today for the first time.
I didn't get to actually finish it because my cab for work showed up way earlier than expected, but Kim and I were talking about it and I was like, whatever, you can walk around adding anything up and finding 23s everywhere if you're looking for them.
And to illustrate my point I picked a random car stopped at a red light and added up the numbers of its licence plate... and it actually added up to 23. Which was admittedly kind of freaky, but anyways.
But this kind of reminded me of how religion and faith work, and quite possibly how my faith has/had been running all this time. The human mind can and will find meaning and answers in literally anything if it looks hard enough, often seeing patterns that just aren't there
, and discovering significance where there is none.
At the end of Luc Besson's mazing and heartbreaking film about Jean of Arc, The Messenger
, the ambiguous 'devil slash conscience slash angel' character played by Dustin Hoffman appears to Joan in her prison cell and questions her about just why she believed that finding a sword in a field necessarily had divine designs behind it, leading her to embark on her doomed career as a warrior for her god.
It was at this point that Kim began searching for a heavy, blunt object to strike me with for having taken a perfectly good chat about a movie and somehow finding a way to turn another normal discussion into another delerious rant about God and Christianity, and I don't remember what happened after that, but I woke up at work with a headache.
And then I realized that today is the 23rd. Bugger.