So I was writing a very big post and then I get a no fit ovation that matpat is leaving game theory and am now heartbroken
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn
Game theory was a massive part of my life growing up and is probably why I’m the pretentious asshole I am today so hungry for information, science, learning, and probably had a lot to do with why I love maths, which basically shaped my whole life going forward. I also wouldn’t be anywhere near as big of a gamer as I am, with some of my favourite games, hollow knight, five nights at Freddy’s, and ESPECIALLY undertale, being introduced to me.
I do not doubt I would be a completely different, and probably a lot more boring, person if it weren’t for this really annoyingly clever moving jpeg, and I wish him nothing but the best.
Here’s hoping we get at least one more fnaf theory out of him
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References that may not be references
Similar scenes I’ve noticed in Stranger Things and other shows/movies
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Labyrinth:
Nancy falling into the Void / Falling
Snowball with Vecna / Bubble Ballroom
Vecnas mind lair / Floating Staircase
Additional:
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The Terminator:
Intro / Intro
Nancy helps Steve in cave / Sarah helps Kyle in underpass
Billy and Max fight in car / Kyle fights in car
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Terminator Two:
Will in Lab / Sarah in Mental Hospital (specifically the shot scene)
Billy walking through mall hall / terminator walking through mall hall
Billy picks up blood / Terminator absorbs shard
Grigori as a character / Terminator
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Ferris Buellers:
Music in Enzo’s / Music in Restaurant
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Karate Kid:
Daniel biking home and falling / Will biking home and falling
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Conan:
I could not sit through this shitshow of a movie BUT it was funny how there was a bowl cut guy and he saves Conan’s life
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The Fly:
Main characters kinda look like Steve and Nancy lollll
Def some Billy / flayed transformation stuff inspired by this
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St Elmo’s Fire
the scene of Alec and whatever his name is cooking is very reminiscent of Will pizza scene, makes me love stranger things more, they weren’t afraid to make a gay character <3
Halloween party
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Napoleon Dynamite:
Snow Ball / High School Dance (same music)
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Jaws:
The Shark / The Demogorgon
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I don’t know why there’s so many parallels to s3 and Billy in particular… I do not like him. I guess it helps to make him all the more scary if they draw from movies that scared people for a looong time.
This is one of the most amusing things I’ve done in my free time, I’ll continue to add to this list :)
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Goncharov, Multivalence, Inversion
I am surprised that I have seen so little discussion here on how Goncharov (1973) is, at its core, a film about the tension that makes the supposedly concrete untenable. It is a film about dissolution, about the unraveling of the warp and weft that make up the text-as-textile, even as it buoys and supports itself on a far slacker suspension of narrative webbing. It is a titan of post-structuralist filmmaking.1
This tension between irreconcilable co-truths saturates the film. Its setting is Naples — Neapolis — Νεάπολις — that most ancient “young city,” one which can trace its lineage through millennia. Its ostensible focus on the Neapolitan mafia is undercut by the Russian identity of the majority of its characters, Soviet expatriates placed with little explanation or questioning into southern Italy. Indeed, the only Italian characters, Mario Ambrosini and Ice Pick Joe,2 are relegated to minor roles, inverting the traditional oppositions of citizen-immigrant by relegating the former, so often centralized, to the margins of the text.
And with the centralized at the margins, the center of the text is a network of untenable relationships. The web of interpersonal connection portrayed in Goncharov is composed of illicit, fleeting threads, sewn together in a net that is necessarily ephemeral. Katya’s infidelity is clear, and while Goncharov’s remains in the liminal space between text and subtext, his double betrayal at the hands of both his wife and his closest confidant shatter the bonds that he held. It is a network of connections so tenuous that they are liable to break at any moment, unmoored from the concrete, constantly recontextualizing themselves as the characters develop across the film. The center cannot hold.
It is that ever-shifting structure that betrays the genius of the work. Take, for example, when we hear Ambrosini threaten Goncharov’s lover. At the beginning of the work, we, naturally, think of Katya. In the center of the film, as homoerotic undertones build towards a critical mass, we wonder if Ambrosini may have actually been threatening Andrey — only to realize, by the end, that this exact ambiguity is what Ambrosini relied upon in his threat, leveraging his knowledge of Goncharov’s twin yearnings and their fragile, untenable nature. The signifier “lover” could point to either individual, and Goncharov’s — and, on a larger scale, Scorsese’s — refusal to interpret it as clearly signifying one sign or another defers that act of interpretation to the viewer. Lover differs from “wife,” it differs from “partner”; and it defers to “love,” but also to “sex”; it defies neat categorization.3 Whom does Goncharov love? With whom does he have intercourse? Ambrosini’s single word slips through these distinctions like a pointed dirk through chainmail, encompassing — and thus questioning — all of these meanings, trying to get Goncharov to choose. To interpret.
Surely, then, his refusal to interpret is Goncharov’s downfall. His indecision, his lack of choice, spells his doom. When we talk of Katya’s lover, we know we refer to Sofia. Andrey’s is Goncharov himself. Yet Goncharov is split, torn, drawn and quartered under the tension of ambiguity, pulled in all of these directions and undone by the very multivalence of the suggestion.
The film, too, defers on a larger scale — and it oftentimes feels so allusive that there might as well not be a principal text. Goncharov, though it appears during the earliest years of the “Mafia Movie” genre, communicates extensively through genre convention. The text elides points through the use of familiar tropes, swiftly moving through the “standard” parts of such a film by relying on a viewer’s assumption. We need not know the hierarchy of the Neapolitan mafia here, nor the exact relationships between the cast — a mere shot of a wedding ring, a gesture from Goncharov to Andrey, an iconic — though distorted — mirror scene to the prior year’s Godfather, and this particular symphony’s prelude concludes.
Yet in such dense reference and deference, the film paradoxically marks itself as highly distinct from the rest of the genre. It allows for such multiplicity of interpretation thanks precisely to this elision. By situating the majority of its background through connection and reference to other works, Goncharov not only devotes more time to the development of its bespoke elements — the web of tenuous connections that make up the texture of the film, the tensions present in bonds and dissolution of certainties throughout — but allows for inference. Because we have no accurate, plain recollection of much of the events surrounding the film, that multiplicity of meaning inherent in the language used throughout can be applied also to the very chronology and events of the world in which it takes place.
And this, also paradoxically, gives the film its lasting strength to resist the very unraveling to which it subjects its characters, its setting, and its language. Because its connections are far looser, the strain that they place on the film, the script, and the narrative itself are far less. It has room to flex, to sway in the breeze, to accept shock through its plasticity. Far from being weakened by its refusal to commit to a single, concrete interpretation, the text is bolstered.
So, just as we first saw Ambrosini’s mention of “lover” as Katya, then as Andrey, and then as both and neither, Goncharov’s refusal to interpret comes, too, into a different light. It is not his looseness, but the rigidity of those around him, that undoes him. His marriage to Katya, the code of the Mafia, the expectations of his relationship with Andrey — all these things lack the play which Goncharov requires, and which Goncharov exalts. He is torn apart because the web that pulls in all directions pulls too tightly — it attempts rigidity, and breaks apart under its own stress. Were these connections looser, more fluid, Goncharov would not find himself twice-betrayed. Were the central love quadrangle content to sit in the liminality of the word lover, to revel in its ambiguity, to acknowledge and revel in the impossibility of concrete interpretation, Ambrosini’s threat would have fallen flat.
Such is the double-coup of Goncharov. It rests upon and illustrates an inversion of the strong-weak dichotomy. That which should be concrete — marriage, diction, chronology itself — shows itself to be untenable, and breaks under the stress of scrutiny. But that which is far looser — the meanings that shift as the text progresses, the web of illusions the film uses to buoy its plot, the threads of plot that find themselves as allusive as they are elusive — proves itself far stronger for that looseness. Rigidity creates brittleness. There must be play in the machine, lest it, like Goncharov himself, snap in twain where it should bend.4 That which is taken too seriously runs the risk of collapsing under its own weight.
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1 In this arena, I am in particular indebted to Fairfax 2021, “Beyond Structuralism: Film Form and Écriture.” ; Metz 1997, “Toward a Post-structural Influence in Film Genre Study: Intertextuality and ‘The Shining.’” ; and Karpov 1979, “Deconstructive Drive in Scorsese’s Filmography”
2 Of course, any reference to an Ice Pick in a setting so filled with Soviet expatriates — especially in such close connection with a nickname derived from Joseph — will inevitably call to mind the assassination of Leon Trotsky. Not only does this reinforce the themes of fracture and dissolution within the text by adding the political to the weave, but it foreshadows the grim fate of the other ex-nationals in the film
3 The interplay of difference and deference is, of course, the subject of Derrida’s famous concept of différance (1963, “Cogito et Histoire de la Folie”), and forms the core of Carrington 1982, “Semiotic Interplay in American Cinema: Goncharov’s Unmooring”
4 Play, too, is a Derridean concept leveraged to great success by the Goncharov scholars of the late 1980s, following in the footsteps of Karpov and Carrington above.
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