#goncharov puddle scene

[vladmasterssimp]

GUYS I JUST REWATCHED GONCHAROV AND I REALIZED THAT THERES A SCENE IN HANNIBAL THAT WAS PROBABLY INSPIRED BY ANDREY’S PUDDLE REFLECTION SCENE!!!

Yk the scene where Hannibal and Will kinda merge together?? The same shit also happens in the puddle scene for Andrey.

After the Boathouse scene where it’s raining cats and dogs Andrey is just walking around aimlessly trying to get himself together right? And then it suddenly stops raining as hard and Andrey has to stop cause there’s a deep puddle covering the whole street. When he looks down and sees his reflection the ripples caused by the rainwater falling off of Andrey make his reflection morph into someone who isn’t quite Andrey. The reflection looking back at him is a mix of both him and Goncharov.

This symbolizes how in the end Andrey has become so entangled with Goncharov that even after Big Gonch is gone (but Andrey doesn’t know that yet) Andrey will never be separate from Goncharov. He has taken too much stake into him that Andrey can’t draw the line between who he is and who Goncharov has made him to be.

THE PARALLELS HERE ARE INSANE I LOVE MY TWO BLORBOS WILL AND ANDREY!!!!

Sorry about the screenshot quality for Goncharov :,( it’s the only one I could get since it’s so hard to find :(((((

[gxncharov]

The clock symbolism in Goncharov (1973) is absolutely worth analyzing and talking about, but I think the mirror symbolism is underappreciated. I genuinely think it is just as interesting and important as, if not better than, the clock symbolism.

We see Goncharov look at himself in the mirror multiple times throughout this film. One of the very first scenes we see of Goncharov is him getting ready in the mirror. He is put together. A man with a plan determined to make something of his life in Naples. He is shown in a mirrow two more times before he first meets Katya and Andrey, both times looking at himself and feeling satisfied with himself.

Then, when we see Goncharov and Katya begin to develop opposing motivations, we are shown Goncharov glancing at himself through dirtied store windows and puddles. His path is beginning to veer off into the thick of the plot.

When he begins growing closer to Andrey, he starts being shown in cracked mirrors. Goncharov and Andrey begin to fall deeper and deeper into their mafia empire until it consumes Goncharov entirely. He isn’t Andrey. He can’t always just pull himself out. Goncharov is a man swallowed whole by his own prison, and loses all sense of self in the process. And from the boat scene onward, his face is never shown undistorted in a reflection again. Every time his reflection is shown, it is cut in half or in the center of shattered glass. This is because Goncharov is no longer the main character; his obsession with self preservation is.

I hope this made sense because this movie is one of my all time faves and I love it when people get interested in the symbolism and storytelling!!

[who-is-there]

Have to say, I think my favourite part of Goncharovs trailer (yes, the juxtaposed shots of Katya in red and white is beautiful, yes, I will talk about the revolving shot of the poker scene until I die, yes, I know the soundtrack and the slow building of clock chime is so subtly intense and, yes, I know I will never mentally be over the shot of ice pick joe’s face and hand reflected in the puddle of melted ice)

but my favourite part has to be the ending half a minute. Seeing Goncharov and Andrey on the docks, smoking, talking like friends, Goncharovs apprehensive offer to meet for lunch when this all ends, Andrey looking so lost when he says he can’t, Goncharov trying to get Andrey to admit he misses him and how they used to be, and then Andrey’s line?? Him turning to Goncharov with such a small, tired look as the clock ticking just stops?? And then seeing that shot of him, pointing his gun in front of him and down and hearing the delivery of the fuckin ‘Goncharov, you know I would never miss you’??

I will never emotionally recover. Take me away.

[peachblossom-odyssey]

Say what you will about the acting in Goncharov, but no one can deny that the scene where Goncharov storms into the boathouse looking for Andrey only to find Katya’s dead body was moment that deserves to be in the MOMA. The way his expression flickers from rage to incomprehension to disbelief to that sort of resigned grief, the “Where is he!?” that trails off as he takes in the scene, the way his shoes come to a stop inches from the edge of the blood puddle, the toes just barely nudging Katya’s broken watch, his reflection in its shattered glass face. Poetic cinema.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

with all the posts going around about goncharov, i’d like to see how you’d write the script. giving you full freedom here, i want you to script any one scene from the film. i think you can out-write Scorsese himself!

*blows up a cloud that hangs over a giant tree*

A GIANT TREE? *takes the giant tree's hand*

Let's go, little one. We'll get you out of there one way or another! *the tree disappears in a gust of cloud, leaving only a puddle on the ground, which disappears with a *flop*

[soulofstarstungl]

When The Clock Stops Ticking - Goncharov (1973)

Goncharov/Katya, Goncharov/Andrei

Rating: Mature; 577 Words

Summary:

The scene of Katya's final betrayal, but instead of both of them missing, only Katya misses.

A/N: This movie does not exist. That being said, this scene in canon has both Goncharov and Katya missing their mark, and it's supposed to be about the fact that they still care for each other despite finding themselves on opposite sides. I think that's bullshit! This scene, to me, is about them realizing that their relationship has fully fallen apart. Katya's shot breaking the clock and Goncharov's shot breaking the window? They've both broken through the illusion that their marriage is still salvageable. I think Katya knew it beforehand but was in denial, meanwhile Goncharov well and truly had no clue up until this moment.

“Time stops for no one, Katya,” Goncharov told her, raising his gun, “not even us.” There was no hurt on her face when she lifted her own gun, only resignation, as though she’d known all along how this would end.

Perhaps she had.

In his quest for power—for the rise of a better, stronger foothold in Naples, they had grown distant. The mafia took up more of his time, now, and he and Katya rarely saw each other. Often, now, he found himself looking to Andrei for his counsel rather than his wife.

Goncharov thought about Andrei drawing closer to light up his cigarette and how their eyes hadn’t strayed from each other while they smoked. He thought about Andrei telling him to put his head back on straight, leaving him with a wave and the words, I'll come back when you've figured yourself out, but don't take too long. We’re all running on borrowed time, Goncharov. He thought about their last meeting where Andrei asked him what he really wanted before leaving him behind with a shake of his head.

You say you don't make mistakes, but this? This was a mistake, Goncharov. I can't do this anymore.

First Andrei, and now Katya.

Time was slipping through his fingers like sand as he tried to hold on to his people, trying to juggle building an empire and his commitments to them and failing.

Was this it? Was he doomed to die in his own office at the hands of his wife?

He still loved her, even as they betrayed each other, even though he knew one of them wouldn’t be making it out of this room alive. He loved her, but it wasn’t enough. He’d made his choice, and this was the price he had to pay—the blood debt he owed.

The clock behind him struck six, and they fired at each other, the gunshots drowning out the sound of the clock’s tolling.

She missed.

…

Goncharov stared down at his wife’s body, the gun in his shaking hands still smoking from the shot. He stumbled over to his desk, dropping into the chair and pulling a pack of cigarettes from the drawer, tossing them between his hands. Her body was hidden behind the desk at this angle, and for a few moments, he could pretend she was still alive instead of a body on the floor.

As he smoked, the copper tang of blood slowly got overlaid by the smell of tobacco smoke, and when he finished his third stick, he sighed, the sound loud in the silence of his office. The ticking of the clock had been silenced, the grandfather clock opposite his desk marred by a bullet hole in its face, glass shards scattered at its foot.

Funny how, even with time stopped, we’re still running out, he thought, turning his face away.

He should be calling someone to clean up—move Katya’s body, mop up her blood, maybe find a nice rug to cover the stain on the floorboards—but he stayed where he was, smoking through his pack of cigarettes until the puddle of blood had spread far enough for him to see it from where he sat.

When he finally stood, it was with a heavy heart and the understanding that the mafia was all he had now. Everyone else had left him: first Andrei, and now Katya.

Was this worth it?

The clock strikes for everyone, even you.