It’s been decades. Decades since a bunch of confused teenagers sat in darkened rooms, watched the credits roll on The End of Evangelion, and asked the same question: "Wait, did everyone just turn into orange juice?"
Honestly, it’s the most polarizing film in anime history. Maybe in film history, period. When Hideaki Anno and Studio Gainax released this in 1997, it wasn't just a movie. It was a visceral, screaming response to a fanbase that had sent death threats and hate mail over the original TV ending of Neon Genesis Evangelion. If you think modern internet discourse is toxic, you should’ve seen the Gainax offices in the mid-90s.
People wanted a "real" ending. They wanted explosions, closure, and giant robots hitting things. They got those things, sure. But they also got a 90-minute descent into psychological horror, Freudian nightmares, and a literal apocalypse where the boundaries between individual souls simply... stop existing. It’s messy. It’s beautiful. It’s deeply, uncomfortably human.
What Actually Happened in The End of Evangelion?
Forget the "Instrumentality" jargon for a second. Let's look at the raw reality. The movie picks up right where episode 24 of the series left off. NERV is under siege. This isn't a "cool" battle; it's a massacre. SEELE, the shadow organization pulling the strings, sends the Japanese Strategic Self-Defense Force to wipe out NERV’s personnel.
It is brutal.
The first half of the film, titled Episode 25: Air, is basically a slasher flick where the victims are the characters we’ve spent 26 episodes growing to love. Misato Katsuragi, the woman who tried to be a mother and a commander, is forced into a final, bloody stand. Asuka Langley Soryu, stuck in a catatonic state at the bottom of a lake inside Eva Unit-02, has a breakthrough that is arguably the most triumphant and then most soul-crushing moment in the franchise. She realizes her mother was with her all along. She fights the Mass Production Evas in a display of pure, unadulterated skill.
And then the birds circle.
If you’ve seen it, you know the sound of the Lance of Longinus. It’s a wet, heavy thud. The shift from "mecha action" to "existential dread" happens the moment Asuka’s Unit-02 is torn apart. It’s not just a plot point. It’s the director telling the audience that the power fantasy is over.
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The Third Impact and the Tang
Then we get to the "Orange Juice" part. Officially, it’s called LCL. Shinji Ikari, pushed to the absolute brink of psychological collapse, is given the power to decide the fate of humanity. This is where The End of Evangelion stops being a movie about robots and starts being a movie about why being a person sucks, but why we do it anyway.
Shinji chooses to trigger the Third Impact.
Everyone on Earth loses their physical form. Their AT Fields—the "ego borders" that keep us separate—dissolve. Everyone turns into LCL, merging into a single, collective consciousness. No more loneliness. No more misunderstandings. No more pain from being rejected. It’s the ultimate "safe space," but it’s also the end of what makes us human.
The visuals here are legendary. Giant naked Rei Ayanami. Crosses of light covering the planet. A live-action shot of a movie theater audience (literally us, the viewers). It’s meta-commentary at its most aggressive. Anno was staring directly at the audience and asking, "Is this what you wanted?"
Why We Are Still Talking About It in 2026
You’d think a movie this old would have faded into the "classic but dated" category. It hasn't. If anything, the themes of The End of Evangelion feel more relevant in the age of social media than they did in the 90s.
We live in a world where we are constantly "connected," yet we feel more isolated than ever. We curate our AT Fields through profile pictures and blocked lists. The movie’s central thesis—the Hedgehog’s Dilemma—is the core of our digital existence. The closer we get to people, the more we hurt each other. But if we stay apart, we freeze.
Shinji’s ultimate choice is the most important part of the film. In the middle of that sea of collective soup, he decides that he wants to be himself again. Even if it means being hurt. Even if it means being hated.
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"I think it’s okay for me to be here."
That one line is the pivot. He rejects the easy peace of the collective for the difficult reality of the individual. When he and Asuka end up on that red shoreline at the end, it’s not a "happily ever after." It’s "now the hard work of living begins." It is a stunningly brave ending for a big-budget animated feature.
The Production Context Most People Miss
It’s no secret that Hideaki Anno was struggling with severe clinical depression during the production of the series and the movie. This isn't just trivia; it's the DNA of the film. The "live-action" segments and the inclusion of actual fan mail (both positive and death threats) were revolutionary.
He wasn't just making art. He was having a public breakdown and a public recovery at the same time. This is why the movie feels so "raw." It’s not polished for a general audience. It’s a scream into the void.
Interestingly, the movie’s budget was relatively high for the time, which is why the animation—supervised by legends like Mitsuo Iso and Kazuya Tsurumaki—still looks better than 90% of what comes out today. The "Asuka vs. the MP Evas" sequence is still a masterclass in weight, physics, and choreography. There is a sense of "physicality" to the Evas that modern CGI struggles to replicate. When a giant robot falls in this movie, you feel the Earth shake.
Common Misconceptions About the Ending
People love to debate what "One More Final: I Need You" actually means. You’ve probably seen the theories.
- Is it a loop? With the Rebuild of Evangelion movies (1.11, 2.22, 3.33, and 3.0+1.0), the "loop" theory became massive. People look at the red sea in the new movies and assume it's a direct sequel to the 1997 film. While there are hints, The End of Evangelion stands as its own definitive, closed-loop statement.
- Did Shinji kill Asuka? No. He chokes her on the beach in a moment of desperate, confused seeking for a reaction. He wants to know if he’s actually "real." Her response—a soft caress and the line "How disgusting" (or "I feel sick")—is her reclaiming her autonomy. She is back. She is hers. He is him.
- Is the TV ending the same as the movie? This is the big one. Some fans argue that episodes 25 and 26 of the TV show happen inside the characters' minds during the Third Impact of the movie. It’s a neat way to tie it together, but they are spiritually different works. The TV ending is an optimistic internal breakthrough. The movie is a traumatic external reality.
Practical Ways to Tackle a Rewatch
If you’re planning to dive back into this, or if you’re a first-timer who just got spoiled but doesn't care (honestly, the spoilers don't ruin the experience), here is how you should approach it.
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Don't try to understand the lore on the first pass. The "Dead Sea Scrolls," the "Chamber of Guf," the "Adam and Lilith" stuff—it’s mostly window dressing for the emotional arc. If you get bogged down in the sci-fi logistics, you’ll miss the point. Focus on Shinji's fear of other people and Misato's desperation to be "good enough."
Watch the original 26-episode series first. You cannot skip to the movie. You need the baggage. You need to feel the exhaustion that the characters feel by the time the movie starts.
Pay attention to the sound design. The silence in The End of Evangelion is just as important as the orchestral score (which is brilliant, by the way—"Komm, süsser Tod" is the most upbeat song about suicide ever written). The way the sound cuts out during the most intense moments is designed to make you feel as isolated as Shinji.
Check the different translations. The original ADV dub, the Netflix re-translation, and the various subbed versions have slight nuances in the dialogue—especially in the final scene—that can change your entire interpretation of the characters’ motivations.
Next Steps for the Viewer:
- Watch for the "Match Cuts": Notice how the film uses visual parallels between Shinji and Gendo, or Rei and Yui. It’s a visual language that explains more than the dialogue ever could.
- Research the "Hedgehog’s Dilemma": Read up on Arthur Schopenhauer’s concept. It is the literal blueprint for the entire story.
- Compare with 3.0+1.0: Once you've finished the 1997 film, watch the final Rebuild movie. It’s the "adult" answer to the "teenage" anger of End of Evangelion. It provides a different kind of closure that might help you sleep better after the trauma of the beach scene.
Living through the end of the world is hard. Watching it happen in 1997 was harder. But as Yui Ikari says in the film, "Anywhere can be paradise as long as you have the will to live." Even if the sea is red and everyone you know is a puddle of goop.