Neon Genesis Evangelion Analysis: The Classic Of All Classics

It takes a while for the perfect storm to come about, but when it does it will create beauty, and confusion beyond the depths of what we thought possible. I can only hope that you are allowed to have such an experience that will shape you for years to come.

It’s very strange how it can just come out of nowhere, a rare work of art comes along that shatters the mold and conventions of its medium in almost too many ways to list. It’s quality, influence, and staying power thrust it into the upper echelons of not just its specific medium, but art as a whole. Neon Genesis Evangelion. One of the most thematically rich, narratively complex, bleak, and downright honest and personal works I've ever been fortunate enough to experience. Equal parts emotionally and intellectually moving it is a must watch for anyone who is a fan of the medium. It shaped the landscape of modern anime and storytelling in more ways than one can count. The definition of a classic.

To say Evangelion would represent a Japanese cultural and commercial milestone would be putting it lightly, and that in and of itself is putting it lightly. Evangelion brought with it new ways of creating ushering in the era of innovations that allowed a technical and artistic revival of the industry. Greater authorial control, the concentration of resources in fewer but higher quality episodes, a directorial approach similar to film, and greater freedom from the constraints of merchandising, of which Evangelion is an absolute powerhouse.

The man behind the series, Hideaki Anno, was no stranger to success, at the time coming off his moderately profitable anime “Nadia: Secret Of The Blue Water” in 1990. Rather than replicate his previous triumphs, Anno had something much different in mind with the control he was not afforded on previous projects. Something far more personal given his state of mind in the aftermath of Nadia. 

Set fifteen years after a second worldwide cataclysm (the first presumably being the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs) in the far-flung future of 2015. A teenage boy by the name of Shinji Ikari, is recruited by his father, Gendo, to the enigmatic organization known only as Nerv, to pilot a giant bio-machine known as an “Evangelion” in order to protect the city of Tokyo-3 against otherworldly beings known as “Angels.” The crash course of the plot I’ve just given is about as barebones as it gets, and hopefully, if you have not seen it yet yourself, you go in just as unprepared as Shinji does, and stop reading here.

There is nothing like the world of Neon Genesis Evangelion. Humanity’s last salvation against the remnants of cataclysm are a trio of emotionally fragile adolescent children, Shinji, Rei, and Asuka, tasked with putting themselves directly in the firing line, scientists overseeing the operations, and the aforementioned father of the protagonist. Emphasizing the relationships between the major players with intimate and thorough attention to detail, we learn more about these characters, not just through their interactions, but in their own waking minds, their demons, and introspection demanding they be shattered into pieces. If they don't the Angels, each uniquely designed, will. The tense, beautifully animated action scenes resembling something of a tokusatsu like Godzilla or Mothra, with stakes far more grounded in reality than the latter.

The trio of Shinji, Rei, and Asuka each have contrasting personalities which allows us to learn more about each when they are directly interacting with each other when they are on duty. The shady organization of Nerv, mainly Misato (Shinji’s guardian), Ritsuko (head scientist and Misato’s best friend), and Gendo Ikari give us glimpses into the truth of the situation and Nerv’s morally gray compass, as well as what they intend to do with the powerful information in which they have. The unmistakable humanity with which each character is portrayed enhances the feeling that these people are just as emotionally broken and vulnerable as we are, and as we as a collective species, always have been, only this time those of us in the background, spectators to the spectacle unfolding are relying on them so see us through, to the possibility of tomorrow. Underneath the surface the flaws of these people begin to take shape. Misato’s duality of all-business in the war room and carefree single lady, lies the truth that she is afraid of genuine connection, lest she feel the pain of yesteryear again. Shinji is afraid of communication with others, feels as though he has no purpose but is too afraid to end his own life. Gendo, a man too afraid to come to terms with his wife’s passing, puts on a facade of determined, hard-nosed, world saver through any methods when he can’t even save himself. Askuka’s unstable self-image causing her to adopt a brash, hostile, reckless conceited persona above a person simply trying to discover self-worth and acceptance in this world. Undoubtedly some of these traits are thematic incarnations of Mr. Anno’s personal strife during the creation of Evangelion.

The lens through which Evangelion is presented is atypical. Narrative structure, shot framing, characterization. In more ways than one it deconstructs the shackles that hold it in place. Its genre and its medium almost feel as though they were given new life, through the hopeless and exhaustion through which Evangelion is told. And as viewers were about to find out, the pessimism and self-loathing that has been simmering throughout the bulk of the series, was ready to promote itself from background detail, to center stage.

Instead of culminating in a gigantic final battle, visually dazzling, emotionally arresting fare in tandem that you might find in the likes of Gundam and Macross, the final two episodes are a metaphysical deep dive into the minds of our broken characters. Evangelion had postmodernist, deeply philosophical rumblings for quite some time to that point, but nothing quite like the no-holds-barred surrealist concluding episodes. It’s hard to believe anything other than this being calculated vision from Mr. Anno. Its message of hope through it’s poetic and cerebral machinations were as divisively received as one might expect it was. Which is ironically one of the core themes through which its message is delivered, “is the human species capable of genuine happiness?”

So polarizing was the ending that Mr. Anno and the entirety of his animation studio, Gainax, were subjected to countless death threats, volatility, and hostility from their most passionate fans. Thus was the impetuous to create a conclusion with the weight, consequences that the viewers desired. One that takes place outside of their minds if you will.

In the film straightforwardly titled “The End Of Evangelion” it is essentially a retelling of the final episodes. A beautiful cacophony of tragedy, pain, despair, it is a subtle, damning counter-attack to those who believe they are entitled to any kind of alternate ending, or the ending they so desperately desire. It almost feels like an alternate story path in a video game or visual novel, and if that is the case, can one really consider it a “better” outcome than previously conceived?

Through its intelligently and philosophically explored themes of adolescence, existentialism, hopelessness, the weight of the world on our wear shoulders, we must come to terms with what the wreckage, emotionally and physically, that the aftermath of The Third Impact has brought with it. Embrace the pain of life in order to move yourself forward as a person, no matter how much it may hurt, no matter how much you may be proven wrong, and how much painful knowledge one must endure, about themselves, and the world as a whole. Surrendering to escapism is a crutch, actively detrimental to our own growth and the limit time we have to experience he good, and the bad. An artfully delivered message beneath the psychological horror on display. To discover what it means to you is another case entirely, and beneath the layers of your persona, in every respect, I hope that you do find a reason to continue this journey. It can be worth it, if you truly want it to be.

Thank you, Brian.