Things I Watched: Neon Genesis Evangelion - An Exemplary Exercise of Emotional Excess

If I were to rate the things I genuinely love then I’m fairly sure Neon Genesis Evangelion would rank somewhere close to the top. This I say somewhat self-consciously. Evangelion is, after all, a cartoon. One you’d be forgiven for thinking was aimed squarely at teenagers. I sympathise with this view but it's both true and isn't.

If you aren’t familiar then let me recap. Neon Genesis Evangelion is a science-fiction anime made in 1995 by Studio Gainax. It follows Ikari Shinji, a shy boy of fourteen who's suddenly called upon by his father to save the world. He's eventually joined by Asuka Langley, a feisty and obstreperous girl of around the same age, as well as Rei Ayanami, a shy and taciturn girl of, yeah, the same age. Together they become a jigsaw of confused teenagers sent out in giant robots to wage battles against strange alien creatures. One per episode.

I suspect this sounds like yet another typical wet dream teenage fantasy but the show eventually develops into something much more personal. The reason I like it so much is because it's concerned not only with heroic virtues, but personal flaws. The characters start well but end up going against traditional heroic conventions and by the end are just complete messes of people. The fate of humanity ends up in the hands of people desperately trying to keep themselves together, which while not thrilling, presents a unique portrait of each of the main characters.

One of major themes of the show is learning how to connect with others. It's an idea elaborated by the ultimate ‘project’ to reconnect the lost souls of the world, envisaged by Shinji's father as the only suitable approach when Shinji, Asuka and Rei are finally done battling the 'angels'. Much of the show revolves around a psychological process. Notably characters long for death as a way to reconnect themselves to their parental figures. Choice words like Thanatos (death) and Eros (love) appear on screen, as does the nontraditional approach of characters asking introspective questions through narration.

It's through these epistolary moments that we learn why the characters fight and submit to to what's expected of them. Long story short, they use it as a way to be valued by others, despite knowing they'll be hurt themselves in the process. This is also why one of the most interesting images are the characters being inserted into giant robots. The characters 'EVA' units act as literal cocoons; embryonic states that allow the characters to reconnect with their mothers whose souls are literally trapped inside. Yes, you read that correctly.

In a mid-to-late episode, Shinji becomes fully digested into his unit. Throughout the episode, we're taken on a journey into his psyche that piles on dialogue after dialogue about the origins of his anxieties. Owing to the Freudian imagery, when Shinji is injected into the EVA unit - a symbolic image that lends to the Oedipus Complex - it’s his way of taking control. His mother acts as a form of protective parent and, in allegiance, they have the potential to take down the most frightening of enemies. This often coming out in the form of an unrestrained manic beast which acts of its own volition.

If the show does take a misstep I feel it’s in its use of use religious symbolism. Some viewers fixate on this aspect a lot but it certainly doesn’t help how many references there are. For example, the characters fight against enemies called ‘angels’; explosions take the form of huge crucifixes; and a big element of the plot to the End of Evangelion film is lifted from the symbol of the Kabbalah. Personally I've always considered these elements peripheral or, at best, illustrative of one way in which humanity has attempted to find meaning for itself. Understandably others remain unconvinced.

While I don't expect Evangelion to resonate with everyone, I find it an exhilarating piece of fiction and I'm still in love with it after all these years. It's action-packed with engaging drama and charismatic characters. It also boasts references to existential philosophy, which is like so my bag. In the end it comes together like a piece of self-therapy - Brecht for the science-fiction age. It's excessive and angsty and baggy and very shaggy too but there's nothing quite like it.