In my latest mathematics column, I present an exciting idea: Hollywood should create a comedic biopic about Paul Erdős, one of history’s greatest mathematicians.

Why does Erdős, pronounced “air-dish,” deserve such recognition? With approximately 1,500 published papers, he is arguably the most prolific mathematician of all time. Known for his innovative collaborations, Erdős made significant contributions to various mathematical fields, including probability, number theory, and graph theory.

Born in Hungary in 1913, Erdős had a nomadic lifestyle, often traveling without a permanent residence. Following the rise of Nazism in Europe, he relocated to the United States in 1938. However, due to his connections to communist sympathizers, he faced entry issues in the 1950s and 1960s. He famously carried a suitcase of his belongings and visited fellow mathematicians, offering to collaborate with the phrase “My brain is open.” His unique approach allowed him to work on groundbreaking mathematics.

Many fascinating stories about Erdős are chronicled in A Man Who Loved Only Numbers, a biography by Paul Hoffman. I first encountered this book as a teenager and believe its potential to captivate a broader audience is unfortunately overlooked. Therefore, I’m launching a campaign to cast Jeff Goldblum in the lead role.

Why Goldblum? Both he and Erdős have striking similarities, and Goldblum has successfully portrayed mathematician Ian Malcolm in the Jurassic Park franchise. More than that, Goldblum’s quirky eccentricity aligns perfectly with Erdős’ unique lifestyle.

Erdős had unconventional views on religion; he described himself as an atheist yet often spoke about God, referring to Him as “the best fascist” or “science fiction.” He sought to uncover the evidence of a magical book that he believed contained proofs for every mathematical theorem.

His linguistic quirks were equally captivating. He called children “Epsilon,” a nod to the Greek letter representing small quantities in mathematics. Friends who left mathematics were, in his eyes, “dead,” while those who actually passed away were simply “gone.” He humorously remarked, “A mathematician is a device that turns coffee into theorems,” a quote borrowed from colleague Alfred Rényi. I can easily envision Goldblum delivering those lines.

An intriguing aspect of Erdős’ legacy is the concept of the “Erdős number.” This measure indicates the collaborative distance between mathematicians, where those who co-authored with him have an Erdős number of 1, and others have higher numbers based on collaboration distance. My Erdős number is 3, having quoted Terrence Tao from UCLA in my writing.

This concept mirrors the “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” game. Goldblum also holds a Bacon number of 1 because they both appeared in the mockumentary Tour de Pharmacy. I only discovered this connection while advocating for my biopic project.

Some individuals hold both Erdős and Bacon numbers, bridging the worlds of mathematics and film. The minimum recorded Erdős-Bacon number is 3, held since 1997 by mathematician Daniel Kreitman, who appeared in Good Will Hunting.

While Erdős’ eccentricities paint a charming picture, it’s important to acknowledge his flaws. A Man Who Loved Only Numbers touches upon his problematic attitudes towards gender, as he often referred to women and men in derogatory ways. However, he was more than willing to collaborate with female mathematicians.

While dreaming of an Erdős biopic raises the concern of reinforcing the “absent-minded professor” stereotype, I argue that current mathematical biopics, like A Beautiful Mind, are serious dramas. A comedic portrayal has yet to be attempted.

Moreover, Erdős left behind numerous open mathematical problems, many offering monetary rewards for solutions. A film could inspire a new generation of puzzle enthusiasts and spark interest in mathematics—an endeavor Erdős would surely endorse. Jeff, if you (or your agent!) are reading this, let’s connect. I’m ready to collaborate on this exciting project!