Nobel Prize Winning Mathematician John Nash Explains the Existence of Jason X

  • Jason Voorhees
  • The Year 2455
  • No Actors We've Ever Heard Of


Directed by the Second Unit Director for Children of the Corn V: Field of Terror (No Kidding)
Jason's Ill-fated Audition For the New Broadway Production of Oklahoma!

A Special Letter From That Beautiful Mind, John Nash

I have to admit that I am baffled by Jason X. I'm a pretty smart guy, but clearly a much more precocious mind than mine is needed to explain this. I am preparing a book and movie review of A Beautiful Mind, and I found that John Nash's wife Alicia is a movie buff. So I gave it a shot: I emailed John Nash at Princeton, and this is his special message to you concerning his findings on Jason X.

To the Loyal Readers of This "Filmsnobs":

My name is John Forbes Nash, Junior. You probably know me as the mathematical genius and remissive schizophrenic from the film A Beautiful Mind. If you've read that somewhat true account of my life compiled by Miss Sylvia Nasar, you'll recall that my most outstanding accomplishments occurred when I tackled mathematics' most vexing problems. You see, I have a bit of a fetish for problems, you might say. I've tackled all the great problems worth my efforts: the classic Fermat theorem about an integer multiplied by itself p times where p is a prime, von Neumann's min-max theorem and mathematical description of game theory's application to pure economics, and my nice discovery concerning the manageability of algebraic manifolds, proving the isometric embeddability of abstract Riemannian manifolds in flat (or "Euclidean") spaces. That was probably my greatest achievement in pure mathematics. But it was the holy grail, so to speak, of pure mathematics and theoretical physics, The Riemann Hypothesis, that perpetrated my decent into madness. Solving it would open up many new solutions to problems both in theoretical and applicable mathematics, but, I have to admit, Riemann's zeta function conjecture proved to be my undoing. In short, my failure to crack that problem cracked me, in a sense.

Now that I've recovered and live a somewhat normal existence here in my office at Princeton, I received a most perplexing proposition from a certain "Shimes," who, from what I can discern, runs a quaint little movie review site on the internet. Being a man of a certain hubris, which I suppose is a trait of most mathematicians of my caliber, I was presented with a problem so vexing, so complex, yet so elegant, that's its unraveling might lead to new discoveries in the theories of the universe, including a much needed revision in Einstein's relativity theorem. I shall let Mr. Himes tell it to you in his words:

Dear Professor Nash,

My name is Steve, and I review movies on the Internet I know that your wife Alicia is a big movie buff, and I've seen the movie of your life, as well as read much of the biographical information about your life and work. Anyway, knowing your interest in the great problems of the universe, and your unique approach to solving them, I thought you might be able to help me out. There's this movie out right now that I can't make any sense of. You know Jason Voorhees, the guy with the hockey mask in the "Friday the 13th" movies? Well, somehow, he's ended up in space in the 25th century, and he's terrorizing these teenagers in the future. For the life of me, I can't figure out how this happened. I think that maybe Jason fell through a "burp" in Einstein's fourth dimensional conjecture, or perhaps Jason himself, seeing as how he's been immortal in the last twenty years of cinema, is perhaps a physical constant all his own, kind of like Planck's Constant or the coefficient of friction. Like I said, I can't figure it out, nor can I figure out how ten of these Jason movies exist, so I propose to you, Dr. Nash, The Voorhees Hypothesis:

ƒ(13) * 10 = 2455 (JX)

How is this possible? Thanks for all your help, Steve

My, what a problem indeed! Needless to say, I found my work concerning the Strong Goldbach Conjecture a bit, well, elementary in comparison. I tackled the problem immediately. Faced with such a complex proposition, I decided that the only possible method was to revisit my original 1959 idea for solving the Riemann Hypothesis. I will have you know that this is quite a risky proposition for me, considering that this idea drove me to madness back in my, shall we say, "lost" days. But as I near the end of my productivity, I feel that my new celebrity in the world of cinema, which I, quite frankly, find a little hyperbolized, should propel me to face my demons. I have learned to compartmentalize—the appropriate euphemism, I believe—my thoughts, and so by revisiting Reimann, perhaps we too can find a cause for the existence of Jason in 2455, or as Mr. Himes so named it, The Voorhees Hypothesis.

Much to my surprise, Alicia has been quite supportive in of my efforts. Alicia, my wife, is an avid moviegoer, and she too was quite distressed at the notion of Jason X. "John," she said, "I'm afraid the boy is right. You must tackle the problem. To prove Jason Voorhees' existence in the twenty-fifth century would undermine a century's worth of insight into quantum mechanics, as well as fundamentally question Einstein's notion of time as a fourth dimension geometric space. Either that, or Jason Voorhees is an as-of-yet unknown theoretical constant. The implications are vast and frightening. There's no way I can ever go back to the Princeton Cinema 8 if you don't solve this equation."

Indeed, Jason X is a disturbing conception that denies rational existence. As I tried with the Riemann Hypothesis, I have developed an idea to try to prove the Voorhees Hypothesis by logic, by the internal consistency of the system of Friday the 13th movies. Some proofs are based on analogies, on rules of logic whereby something is proved indirectly. If one could show that the structure of the Riemann Hypothesis and Jason X are in some sense identical, one could show that the logic of one proof had to apply to the other. For instance, Riemann conjectures that within an infinite series 1 +1/2s + 1/3s + 1/ which s is a complex number, say s = u + iv (assuming i = square root of -1), where u and v are real numbers, the chosen series converges. If Riemann is correct, then all such values of s for which u lies between 0 and 1 are of the form 1/2 + iv, namely, all their real parts equal to 1/2.

To be analogous to the time travel of Jason Voorhees, one must prove a similar internal logic within the seemingly infinite series ƒ(13) + 1, ƒ(13) + 2, ƒ(13) + 3....ƒ(13) + 10. Let's investigate. The first Friday the 13th movie is a significantly diminished subset of the infinitely better John Carpenter film Halloween, which is justifiably a classic of the genre. The formulaic procedure of the irrational actions of the interchangeable teenage variables in this series is proven analogous to similar series in an elegant, brief essay on the subject by noted expert Wes Craven in his famous and lucrative Scream series in the 1990's. The significance of the discovery should not be underestimated: Professor Craven rationalized the irrational behavior of infinitely interchangeable teenage variables within the context of its own internal consistency and logic. Very elegant indeed. However, the plot variable in the Voorhees series proves a bit more problematic. It's elusive, and grows quite unpredictable in increasingly irrational ways. The first two installments of the series involve a small camp in New Jersey, Voorhees himself existing in only two-dimensions. In the third installment, the Voorhees equation distorts itself by converging onto three-dimensional solid geometry, thus forcing the audience to have to wear—and this is purely a subjective value judgment—stupid looking red and blue glasses just to see him. The fourth installment conjectures that it's "The Final Chapter," yet paradoxes itself by proceeding to a fifth installment, "A New Beginning."

So far, the Voorhees Hypothesis has not ventured into wholly unexplainable territory, even for Hollywood. Yet, its sixth installment offers interchangeable teenage variables digging up Voorhees (a completely irrational act, even by the standards of the Craven Theorems). The seventh involves underwater telekinetic powers, which defies the superiority of the rational mind in the real, physical world. And in the eighth, it is proffered that Voorhees can somehow "take" Manhattan, though this seems somewhat plausible, considering that in the ninth, Voorhees supersedes Einstein's fourth dimensional conjecture, thus, he "Goes to Hell."

From underwater to Manhattan to Hell, I cannot produce an equation, by the laws of quantum mechanics and relativity, that could conceivable land Voorhees in the year 2455. The thought itself conjures feelings of my own dark madness that has shadowed much of my adult life. As I've retreated inward since Mr. Himes offered me the Voorhees Hypothesis, I've begun to hear the voices in my head again. Sometimes I hear nothing but a chainsaw, but this is not the delusion that I believe may precipitate another episode of unfortunate madness: I hear a certain mysterious figure only revealed to me as "Opie," discussing an idea so absurd that even I, who once believed that aliens communicated with me through the front page of the New York Times, find insane—a mermaid venturing through the streets of New York City to locate a man she's rescued twice at sea. Perhaps my recent entry into the annals of cinema has somehow bent the closed universe of movies to the will of my mind, with Jason X a delusion much like the extra-terrestrials who sent me messages back in the 1960's. Perhaps I wandered into a movie theater in 1980, and Jason Voorhees triggered a deep psychological reaction to the insulin shock therapy I received to treat my schizophrenia, only now manifesting itself in the irrational, nightmarish existence of Jason X. If, my dear moviegoers, you do see Jason X, like all of my delusions, you have to rationalize its nonexistence. In other words, in an effort to rationalize one's thinking, the one can simply recognize and reject the irrational hypothesis of delusional thinking—like Jason X. As with the voices in my head, Jason Voorhees will never go away, but if you ignore him long enough, he will not haunt you. He will not haunt you.

The 1994 Nobel Prize Winner in Economics,

John Forbes Nash, Junior

Pictured Above: Nobel Laureate John Forbes Nash, Jr. Admits Defeat In Trying to Rationalize Jason X

The Pitch:
0 John Carpenter
0 Lost In Space
0 Jason X
See It For:

Jason prepares to take his turn chasing Arnold in The Running Man.