Do you think Goncharov (1973) influenced the character of Eli Morrow?
Yes, but not in the way you'd think.
ANGR's cast and premise draw inspiration from real life, generously spiced with diverse bits of pop culture like Stephen King novels, Tokusatsu, Rumble In The Bronx, etc. Good artists borrow, great artists steal, and Goncharov's contributions to the bridge scene in Issue 10 are particularly obvious. But Eli Morrow is not Ice Pick Joe.
If Ice Pick Joe represents a simple man doomed by the joyful exercise of his natural talents, Eli Morrow stands in contrast as a man who, not satisfied by the doom his natural talents offered him, sought out new, more interesting doom. Doom he could spread around, to his nephews for example. Demonic sacrifice doom.
The text doesn't give us much about Eli's personal history, and it's natural to turn to Goncharov to fill in the blanks. Eli's friendship-turned-sour with Yegor Ivanov offers a clear parallel to our second favorite hitman, but Felipe Smith transforms what he steals, and he loves to subvert classic tropes in interesting ways. I read Eli as an inversion of Josep.
There is a nobility to Ice Pick Joe as he meets his fate. Though the audience knows he is most likely innocent, and Joe does indeed fight like a cornered animal, when he is disarmed he kneels quietly, and in death his hand lies across his chest with two fingers extended in a blessing, an easily-overlooked detail for those whose mother never entered a post-divorce Catholic phase. The film's language is clear: Ice Pick Joe does not hold his killers at fault. The evidence was against him, and he would have done the same.
Eli likewise met his end in an (off-panel) orgy of violence, but unlike Joe, he returned from the grave with the sole project of killing his former boss. Everything he does throughout the three arcs of ANGR (2014) work toward this goal; his revenge stands in contrast to Joe's forgiveness, and I would also venture to guess perhaps Eli was guilty where Joe was innocent. We know what justification Yegor Ivanov gave for Eli's killing, that he was disturbed by Eli's traffic with the supernatural, but if we really want to dig into the Eli Morrow/Ice Pick Joe contrasts, it would make a very pretty picture if Eli had actually been informing on Yegor to the FBI.
Not only does he not forgive his killers, but he was actually guilty. A nail in the coffin for the "noble hitman" trope.
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Hi! Could I request some Paul+Ted friendship that's not NOT romance... basically Paul find Ted crying in a bathroom stall and they chat and it's angsty and all that good stuff. Love your writing btw!
BTW Ted has HORENDOUS self-esteem and I will die in that hill.
You can absolutely suggest that! Do you mind if I use this as a continuation to the time loop prompt? I could make that really angsty...
"I wanna go back. I- fuck- I can't take this shit anymore!"
Ted's desperate attempt to keep himself in check had backfired drastically. Paul had known from the moment he confronted him that he looked like he was going to have a breakdown... And that had been proven all but true when he'd returned from his lunch break early and heard sobbing coming from behind Ted's office door.
After a moment of hesitation, and a check to confirm that nobody was following him, he knocked on the office door carefully, not wanting to startle him too badly.
"Christ-" Ted's breath hitched when his train of thought was so violently interrupted, and he tried for a moment to pretend like that hadn't scared him shitless. He took a breath, trying for all it was worth to sound even slightly normal. "Wh-what?" He asked, not noticing the way his voice shook.
Hand rested up against the door, Paul sighed softly. "It's just me, Ted."
"... Paul?"
"Yeah. It's just me. Can I come in?"
If Paul was asking that, he probably knew what kind of state he was in. Hell, he'd probably heard most of it anyway, who knows how long he'd been at it?
The panic had caused a tremor in his hands. In some kind of attempt to stop it, he pushed them both into the front of his hair and let his fingers graze through the strands that were trying to remain part of the gathering.
Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it. You're gonna make yourself sound like a madman, Ted. Don't let him in, don't-
"S-sure. Door's open."
Paul pushed his way through, and immediately saw what this state had done to Ted. He was on the ground, pressed up against his desk and hiding his face in his arms. His hair was uncharacteristically unkempt. Sure, Ted wasn't exactly known for keeping his hair neat, but there was so much of it out of the hair tie he normally used that there may as well not have been a hair tie at all.
He closed the door behind him, even though he knew there wasn't enough people in the office for it to matter.
Upon hearing that, Ted's gaze shot up, eyes wide and glistening, face streaked with tears. He tried to compose himself, but quickly realised that he was too far gone to care. Besides, Paul was probably here because he'd heard what was going on, there was no point in trying to hide it now.
"Ted, uh-" Paul hadn't come in with any kind of plan here. This was just plain concern talking, a need to see if there was anything he could do. Are you okay was the wrong question. He was so far from okay that it was almost astounding.
"What happened?"
As Paul chalked up a list of possibilities in his head, Ted tried to chalk up whether telling him straight out would be the right way to go. It was an insane demand, and there was no way Paul would believe him in any capacity. It's been Thursday for the past two and a half months... Yeah, that sounded stupid. And while there was a part of him that did want to be assured that it'd be fine, that he could move on even if it took time, he wasn't going to find himself admitting-
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Huh? What... What d'you mean, 'what"?"
"You just said-"
"Fuck."
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He'd said that out loud. He'd said that out loud. So much for not wanting Paul to think he was crazy... He couldn't even trust himself to say anything without his mind getting away from him!
It didn't matter. Paul knew now, and he couldn't exactly take it back...
So, he nodded. Better for him to walk out now and forget he ever asked. Better for him not to think he was losing his mind. Better if he said nothing.
But he stayed. Brow drawn, completely silent... He was waiting for something. An explanation, probably. Ted heaved a sigh and forced himself to think about his every word.
"It's- uh- yeah. It's been Thursday for- for weeks. The same Thursday. Yesterday." He motioned for Paul to take a seat somewhere; the way he was just standing there was starting to get intimidating.
With a shrug, Paul walked over and sat against the other side of the desk, to put a little space between them. He leaned back against it, and glanced over at Ted. "I don't think I understand..."
Ted sighed. That made two of them. "I don't- I don't know, okay? Every time I woke up, it- it was the fucking same. Same day, with the same people and the same fucking conversations… I had this whole- I had everything worked out, and now suddenly-"
"It's Friday..?" Paul offered, with a genuine air of sympathy about him.
Ted nodded. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Yeah. It- it's Friday. I thought I'd be glad it was all over, y'know? That things would stop being the same, but it feels like shit, Paul." He reached up to pull out his now redundant hair tie, and scrubbed his hand over his face to collect the loose tears still threatening to fall.
Paul didn't really know, nor did he think he'd understand, but Ted was messed up over it, and he thought he owed it to him to at least make an effort. "So, what, you woke up in the same day?"
"Every day. No matter what I did."
"How long for?"
"Stopped keeping track a couple weeks in. Today's just... It's a lot, y'know? Thought I'd be fine..."
Paul shifted ever so slightly closer. Ted was absently twisting his hair tie into various different knots, pulling them out, and then then doing the exact same thing all over again. He'd never seen him this anxious over anything before, it was a strange enough sight on just that. Ted was brash, confident, reckless... The man sitting five feet away from him was shaking, lost, and barely able to string a sentence together without stammering.
There was a part of Paul looking to investigate, to get to the bottom of whatever was playing on his mind. The rest of him knew that spirals like this spiked the nerves, left a guy helpless. Ted probably didn't even know how to explain what was going on in his head, let alone what had apparently happened yesterday.
So, he stopped himself asking too many questions.
"I wanna go back. I know what that sounds like... But I don't fucking care anymore, I wanna go back." A sob racked his chest and he ended up gasping for breath. He found the strength to look at Paul, his eyes wide and frightened. "Saturday's coming. I don't know how I'm gonna cope when I don't even have to come to this shit hole! At least today I could pretend things were normal!"
Paul shuffled so he was facing Ted properly. The latter did the same, feeling a strange sense of being understood here. He didn't even know what it was, but Paul seemed to have understood at least some of that sentiment.
"How are you for the movies tomorrow?"
Paul's question threw him right off guard. He blinked, stared at Paul, then blinked again. "Huh?"
"Would.... Would having some kinda plan make this whole thing any better?"
Yes, goddamnit, I need something normal and set, because I've got two days of this shit and I don't wanna lose my mind before I come back on Monday...
"I dunno.... Uh, maybe?" Then he tried to scoff, tried to gain a semblance of himself. "What, you asking me on a date to the movies, Matthews?"
"Not a date. But... Yeah. It doesn't matter what's on, we could just... Watch for the sake of watching, y'know?"
"... I'll be there."
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