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Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Analysis

Is this a ridiculously naval-gazing post about Evangelion? Yes. Is it an accurate assessment of the franchise as a whole? I have no idea. I tackled this as an unknown initially, starting the series with zero contexts beyond the usual recommendation of “you should watch this.” Which is part of the reason why I’ve been a little hesitant about even broaching this subject to begin with. I’m so removed from the zeitgeist, both in terms of not being a regular anime viewer, as well as it being long past Evangelion’s relevance as a franchise, that it seems everybody already has their opinion on Evangelion all figured out. So at least indulge me, as I scramble around for something.

‘The End of Evangelion’ is a certainly a gratifying conclusion, as we finally get to see much of what was being concealed behind the veil (well, as much as one could reasonably hope for). It also reminds us of some long-standing questions. Why do the Evangelion possess such a bizarre tendency to be ill suited for battle? How do NERV’s continue to run unabated from governing bodies? What exactly is the mystery surrounding the origin of the ‘Geofront’? These were all broad strokes of why I felt unsatisfied by the original conclusion (the hastily arranged make good of the final few episodes of the series), and though I don’t expect every minor detail to be answered about such a multi-faceted world, I still feel these were questions pertinent enough to have been resolved in some fashion. Now I’m a little more aware of the troubled events leading up to that ending and it’s quite admirable that they managed to deliver something, despite the haphazard nature of those final two episodes.

 It’s clear that End of Evangelion intends to underline the original series from the start, dropping us back at the critical juncture where episode 24 had left us. Even if one could feasibly state that we reach the same point after the events of EOE, I’d argue that we inhabit a vastly different headspace by the time we reach it here. It’s not difficult to surmise what happens between the gaps left between the final two episodes, though everything is lent much more credence here, now that we are left to witness the macabre reality of what the entire series has been building towards. NERV headquarters is finally attacked by SEELE, and with this, we finally see the bloody climax. Now free to depict the attack in full detail, the opening half is certainly full of action and excess, though far from mindless, with only the most unflinching of viewers (or those divorced from its context) likely to derive any sort of baseless enjoyment from these scenes. The various lingering shots of deaths sit uncomfortably here, but nonetheless punctuate the finality of it all. If anyone could have accused the series of taking a wholly unexpected (and saccharine) turn towards it’s finale, then EOE is it’s biting rebuttal.  As cold as the NERV headquarters is, with almost everything bad that has occurred almost exclusively originating from within it’s walls, it’s still disconcerting to see such a familiar setting being callously destroyed in a matter of minutes, along with it’s inhabitants. The conflict has essentially existed as a faceless one; both the audience and Evangelion’s protagonists seldom knew what they’re truly been up against. It’s a war being played out by the pawns, and here we see the severity first-hand.

 As their headquarters are crumbling, so are the pilots. Shinji is in no fit state, evidenced by his own bemusement over his actions towards a comatose Asuka. It may be shocking, and his actions are far from admirable, but given the context, it’s hardly surprising. After all, his confidence had been built up; only to be meticulously broken the instant Kaworu reared his head. This compounded with his earlier apprehensions after Toji’s departure, his various disingenuous, failed, and otherwise doomed relationships leaves his mental state in tatters. I personally don’t like Shinji, but then again, it’s quite clear to see that you’re not really supposed to. Even without Hideki Anno’s spiteful intent of wanting to deconstruct the typical shonen hero propelling Shinji’s arc, it’s quite safe to assume that anyone who had any lingering empathy for Shinji will almost certainly have abandoned such notions at this point. The Shinji we were first introduced to, awkward, unlikeable, with an overriding sense of hate and self-loathing, has now given way to complete apathy. “I’m so fucked up” seems to ring more an acknowledgement, than it does a realization.

 Like Shinji, Asuka too has succumbed to her trauma, but on a much more literal scale, being broken in both mind and body. They are two characters that are seemingly analogous to one another. But again, first appearances can be deceiving, as by the point of Asuka’s introduction, we are already keenly aware of Shinji’s nature. He openly laments his position; Meanwhile, Asuka is brash and outspoken, embracing her identity as a designated hero, rather than cowering behind it. How they choose to define themselves is different, but the underlying reasons are gradually revealed to quite similar. Both driven by an inherent self-loathing, we witness the pair at varying levels of despondency, though rarely at the same time. In fact, for as consistent as emotional turmoil is through NGE, it is rarely overt, leaving most characters to wallow in their own abject misery. Almost everything operates on a certain level on duplicity, some of which, admittedly, isn’t apparent upon first viewing.

 Rei is ostensibly disconnected from the very beginning, though that makes the act of attempting to interpret the character, quite difficult. Very little is revealed about her, and most of the development is concerned with what she is, rather than what she does. Her role is pivotal to the overall narrative, and the themes being explored, as she is, by design, a doll that emotes. Which I guess is where her appeal lies. The mystery intrinsic to the character is never completely done away with, even at the very end. And the case could be made if the third incarnation of ‘Rei’ is even the same character that we’d become accustomed to, as her eventual rejection of instrumentality is a stark contrast to the cold pragmatist that bookended the TV series.

 The (quite literal) congratulatory nature of the series conclusion was always conspicuous in its inclusion. Evangelion had never been a work that had an interest in servicing its audience, at least in terms of a ‘happy’ ending. Which isn’t to say that wasn’t a possibility, but the tonal dissonance in which it was delivered never quite rang true. As an audience, we were conditioned to cautiously enjoy any brief respites afforded to our characters, as more often than not, it was simply a prelude to the turmoil that was soon to be heaped upon them. All of which (keeping with tradition), means the course correcting of EOE ups the stakes by an order of magnitude. The imminent attack is at the worst possible time, with each pilot being indisposed. The first big sequence, the assault on NERV, is a veritable massacre. Everyone’s fates are conclusively played out, whilst the Evangelion units become the focal point. 01 is promptly captured, whilst 02 (along with Asuka) is sunk to the bottom of the lake. This leaves Misato to attempt to galvanize an unstable Shinji. It’s kind of galling to see Shinji act so despondently in the face of her imminent death, though his selfishness probably obscures that fact until it’s too late. For me, Katsuragi is probably the most well meaning of the entire cast, but tragically, is someone woefully inept of providing the emotional support that others around her need. Her own weaknesses are clear to see, and although many of her problems are often emphasized for comic affect, she is still one of the few who straddles the line between her duties and profession life, perhaps the most convincingly. Like most other characters, she serves as juxtaposition to Shinji’s own conflict, and highlights how everyone is dealing with their own issues, just with varying levels of inadequacy. Her final actions echo her previous (failed) attempt at comforting Shinji, with her own loneliness giving way to fleeting intimacy.

Everything hits a crescendo once the Evangelion finally make their appearance, quite literally. Asuka awakens, and with it, her centrepiece battle takes place. I’m sure that it isn’t really something that I need to go into exacting detail about, because the following scene is enduring all by itself. Though it is notable as a culmination of the various elements all coming together; music, animation, along with the story. This is where EOE leverage’s its theatrical status for all its worth, eschewing the patchwork TV production in favour of something grander.  The actions scenes are often impressive and horrifying in equal measure, and there is probably no greater proof than here. Asuka’s death is certainly disturbing, and much of that is down to how they chose to portray that violence. For me, it recalled earlier moments, where the eldritch abomination like nature of the Evangelion had been evoked. These moments give the audience a brief pause for thought, where much is suggested of how horrifying their (The Evangelion) unshackled nature truly is. The unease, which these moments produce, suggests that something is terribly untoward. Most of which is conveyed in how we (the audience) see others react, gleaning what we can from cutaway shots of onlookers recoiling in horror. If recollections of Unit O1’s previous ‘feast’ already served to perturb, then this surely toys with our imagination yet further. We only see Unit 02 itself being devoured, and now knowing what we do about the distinctly human aspect of the Evangelion, the horror of Asuka’s fate here, trapped inside, now inhabits an altogether more unsettling space. The series ending, try as I might to appreciate it, was never going to suffice. It was nice to see Shinji’s own paradigm being settled, but I felt like it would have been more effective with a little more of that ambiguity stripped away. For as much as Neon Genesis Evangelion likes to steep itself in duplicity, this is where it’s felt like it was something of a compromise. The inner turmoil was my key takeaway from the work as a whole; it forms the crux of every relationship, and dictates the course of every action. It’s a lonely show, something that if not apparent from the get-go, slowly permeates throughout the narrative. Shinji is an initially an awkward character to relate to, bumbling his way through his scenes, though much of this weak nature is revealed to be a product of his environment. The world in which this all takes place is irreparably damaged, and even if the true extent of the second impact isn’t made expressly clear, it becomes quite apparent that humanity lives on in its own self-inflicted dystopia. It is this inherent contradiction that defines nearly every relationship, as each is unwilling (or unable) to acknowledge their true feelings. It is ultimately a self-destructive existence for the likes of Shinji, who permeates multiple meanings to his interactions with people, the paradoxical nature of which is explored in the conflict that defines the multiple endings and interpretations. Shinji is our proxy, but even so, it can be difficult to empathize with him. A hero he may be, but it’s more by designation than by design. It’s a role, which he consistently questions, as he exhibits almost none of the values we typically associate with someone tasked with such a mammoth task. He ostensibly comes of age throughout the series, gradually gaining some semblance of self-worth, though it a precarious act as he constantly seeks assurance from his father, and later anyone (which becomes something that Asuka resents him for). No character is treated like a proverbial puppet more than Shinji. In fact, it is SEELE themselves, who objective turns out to ultimately “break” Shinji, rendering his ego to naught. For all intents and purposes, it could be argued that the whole world is literally against him, at least by his own perceptions. His relationship is Asuka is extremely strained, initially showing hints of affection, with their hilariously depressing kiss encapsulates this dichotomy; Neither the circumstances (nor the characters) allowing for anything to take place. Even the slight reprieve offered in the finale (Asuka’s acknowledgement amidst the fallout) is obfuscated by the context in which it’s delivered.

Shinji’s journey dictates the ending, first, in the original series, where his perspective colours the ambiguity from which we see the fallout. Thematically this works (and I can see why some may prefer the agency it gives the audience), though I feel that the abstract nature of this ending, robs it of some emotional resonance. This conclusion is also hampered (at least for me) in how abrupt it is, with certain story threads left dangling. In my opinion, ‘End of Evangelion’ lives up to it’s billing as it gives a much more balanced and subjective conclusion, where we see first-hand “The Human Instrumentality Project” in effect. I was suitably invested to the point where I wished to see how the end was reached, and of course, see something that wasn’t cobbled together with recycled animation or slight of hand. I can certainly appreciate the original ending as a companion piece, which serves as a more personal and intimate resolution. But the fact remains, a lot of the fascination surely lays with how incomplete this all feels, with each finale, seemingly answering as many questions as they create. That said, I find that both endings offer up a surprisingly optimistic message. The original may be more overtly upbeat, but I think that EOE’s is lent more credence by virtue of the horror that precedes it. The life affirming message is delivered in the most tragic of circumstances, and I perhaps find that most heartening of all. By no means does ‘End of Evangelion’ end on a positive note, but I think it’s enough that it carries the promise of one. The somber sentiment may be more prevalent for some, though my rebuttal would point to the fact that, for as depraved and unethical the means may be, everyone ultimately wants to be happy. There is something to be said about the apparent theology that makes up a large part of Evangelion, and even if it has no real implication beyond the aesthetic (those initial warnings from long-time fans that, yes, a lot of the pseudo Christian imagery is window dressing at best. ), I still feel that its prominence casts a large shadow over proceedings. If nothing else, it certainly lends a morbid atmosphere to the show. When one starts to take this aspect into closer consideration, it’s easy to see why theory regarding Evangelion has become so prevalent. One of the constants throughout is the titular Evangelion. Though they remain a focal part, their function, both narratively and thematically, are constantly shifting. Initially agents of change, they are presented as a mysterious, if helpful force. Gradually this is peeled back, as various allusions are made to what they actually are. Throughout, we see how their pilots are affected by their experiences in their cockpits. Shinji is continually drawn and repulsed by the idea of piloting his Evangelion, seeing it as a means to forge something meaningful, whilst at the time, also aware of how dependant he becomes of his new role. Rei is driven by a sense of twisted duty, one that routinely sees her sacrificing herself (needlessly) for the cause. And Asuka perceives her role as raison d'être to obfuscate her own past, this being both a strength and a weakness. For better or worse, the Evangelion define them, and as the story progresses, we see that this takes on altogether more sinister connotations.  When viewed as an allegory, I think Evangelion holds multiple meanings, depending on what part is being referred to, or indeed who is viewing it. My initial impressions were pretty much taking it at face value, though I think the misdirection of the opening is a deliberate ploy for the most part. I’ve read that some take it as a deconstruction of the very genre it inhabits, though not having much experience with that myself, I choose to focus solely on the emotional aspects. Indeed, the psychological (and philosophical) strands become much more prominent as the series progresses, as it steadily veers into becoming a wholly oblique affair. Humanity may live on, but in spite of itself; something which is made abundantly clear, throughout.

Though its message initially seems quite muddled, I still feel it one that still manages to remain pertinent. I certainly can’t fault it for ambition. And there is something to be said about a piece of work that I simultaneously feel, is one of the most bleak and uplifting things I have witnessed, flawed or otherwise. I appreciate the themes that it chooses to explore. I like the characters, even in spite of everyone being contemptible in some glaring way. And in that respect, this series is nothing, if not a parade of characters struggling to deal with their emotions. But maybe that’s why I like it amidst all the abstract craziness; it retains a very human message.