Max is a brilliant but socially crippled young mathematician who has built a supercomputer and possibly unlocked the mathematical secrets of the universe, explaining everything from the stock market to God. The mathematical precision with which the world would operate if this is true casts a great deal of doubt on the existence of free will. At the same time, however, the film is asking questions about reality, and whether or not Max's discovery can truly be used in any practical way. Ultimately, both questions are rendered moot by Max's destruction of the mathematical portion of his brain. Though this seems to be an act of free will, it could also be the natural and inevitable next step in the

Regardless, the knowledge is lost for at least another generation. In this way, the film also asks what we are capable of knowing, and what the true utility of knowledge is. The two questions are quite distinct -- one asks what is truly possible, the other what is ultimately worthwhile. Max's debilitated contentment after his self-performed operation seems to suggest that knowledge is not nearly as essential to fulfillment as is often supposed, but his life is also definitely lacking in richness.
Films -- all works of art, really -- and philosophy have at least this much in common: both are concerned more with phrasing questions correctly than they are with finding answers. The correct phrasing of a philosophical question in film is an exciting and involved journey, but one that is well worth taking. And until these questions are answered, there will always be new journeys available.