You’ve probably seen the purple robot. Maybe you’ve seen the memes of a teenage boy crying in a chair or that giant, terrifying naked lady floating in space. If you’ve spent any time in nerd circles over the last thirty years, Neon Genesis Evangelion is unavoidable. It’s the anime that everyone tells you to watch, and then immediately apologizes for once you actually finish it. Because, honestly? It’s a lot. It’s a mess of Freudian psychology, Christian iconography used mostly because it "looked cool," and some of the most gut-wrenching character studies ever put to paper.
It started in 1995. Hideaki Anno, the director, was depressed. Like, clinically, "can't get out of bed" depressed. He poured that specific, hollow ache into a show about giant monsters attacking Tokyo-3. On the surface, it’s a mecha show. Kids hop into big suits and punch aliens called Angels. Simple, right? Wrong. By the time you hit the halfway mark, the show stops being about the robots and starts being about why people can't understand each other.
The Messy Reality of Neon Genesis Evangelion
Most shows try to make their protagonist a hero. Shinji Ikari is not a hero. He’s a fourteen-year-old boy who just wants his dad to look at him without scowling. When he gets told to "get in the robot," it’s not an inspiring call to adventure. It’s child abuse. Fans have spent decades arguing about whether Shinji is a coward or the most realistic person in the series. I lean toward the latter. If a 100-foot-tall geometric nightmare started shooting lasers at me, I wouldn't want to fight it either.
The show's production was a disaster. Gainax, the studio, ran out of money toward the end. This is why the last two episodes of the original TV run look like a PowerPoint presentation or a series of sketches in a therapist's notebook. It was experimental by necessity. Some people hated it. They sent death threats to Anno. They wanted a "real" ending with explosions and closure.
What they got instead was The End of Evangelion.
That movie is a fever dream. It’s beautiful, horrifying, and deeply cynical. It’s also probably the best piece of animation ever made, even if it leaves you feeling like you need a three-hour shower. It replaced the "congratulations" ending of the TV show with a literal apocalypse fueled by teenage angst and orange juice. Well, LCL fluid, but it looks like Tang.
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Why the Angels Aren't Just Monsters
We need to talk about the Angels. In most anime, the bad guys are just... bad guys. In Neon Genesis Evangelion, the Angels are "the other." They are different evolutionary paths for humanity. Some are giant fish. One is a floating blue diamond (Ramiel, best girl). Another is a shadow on the ground that is actually a three-dimensional sphere.
They represent the "Hedgehog’s Dilemma." This is a big theme in the show. Basically, hedgehogs want to get close for warmth, but their spikes hurt each other. Humans are the same. We want intimacy, but we’re terrified of the pain that comes with it. The Angels are the ultimate wall between us and "the other."
The Rebuilds: A Second Chance or a Cash Grab?
Years later, Anno came back. He started the Rebuild of Evangelion tetralogy. At first, it looked like a high-budget remake. Better CG, shinier colors, more action. But then Evangelion: 2.22 happened, and the plot veered off a cliff.
It introduced Mari Illustrious Makinami. People still argue about her. Is she a meta-commentary on the fandom? Is she just there to sell figures? Honestly, she’s the only person in the entire franchise who actually seems to enjoy piloting an Eva, which makes her the weirdest character by default.
The final film, Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time, finally gave us an ending in 2021. It took forever to come out. Fans waited nine years between the third and fourth movies. But it did something the original couldn't: it gave the characters peace. It felt like Anno finally worked through his own demons and wanted Shinji—and the audience—to move on.
- Shinji Ikari: The heart of the show. He represents the fear of rejection.
- Asuka Langley Soryu: The "Tsundere" archetype that the show basically invented and then deconstructed until she was a broken shell. She’s defined by a desperate need to be the best because she’s terrified of being unnecessary.
- Rei Ayanami: The "quiet girl" who turns out to be... well, let's just say "clone issues" is an understatement.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Lore
You see a lot of people trying to map out the "Dead Sea Scrolls" or the "First Ancestral Race" in the Eva-verse. Here’s a secret: most of it doesn't matter. The Christian crosses that appear when things explode? The creators admitted they used them because they looked exotic to a Japanese audience. It’s aesthetic.
The real "lore" is psychological. The show is a Rorschach test. If you’re a parent, you see a story about the failure of fatherhood (Gendo Ikari is officially the worst dad in fiction). If you’re a teenager, you see the crushing weight of expectations. If you’re an artist, you see a man struggling to finish his work while the world watches.
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The "Human Instrumentality Project" is the big MacGuffin. It’s an attempt to merge all human souls into one giant collective soup. No more loneliness. No more spikes. But also, no more "you." It’s the ultimate escape from reality. And in the end, the show always lands on the same point: reality sucks, and it hurts, but it’s the only place where you can find something real.
How to Actually Watch It
Don't start with the Rebuilds. You’ve gotta start with the 1995 series. 26 episodes. Then watch The End of Evangelion. That is the "core" experience.
If you’re still standing after that, then dive into the Rebuilds (1.11, 2.22, 3.33, 3.0+1.0). It hits differently when you know where the characters started. There’s also a manga by Yoshiyuki Sadamoto, the character designer. It’s actually pretty great because it gives Shinji a bit more of a backbone, though it lacks the sheer chaotic energy of the anime.
Practical Steps for New Viewers
- Check your headspace. If you’re feeling particularly fragile, maybe wait. Eva is heavy. It deals with suicide, depression, and severe trauma.
- Ignore the "What does this symbol mean?" rabbit holes. Just feel it. The show is an emotional experience first and a sci-fi mystery second.
- Watch the subtitles. The original Japanese voice acting, especially Megumi Ogata as Shinji, is legendary. The raw screaming in episode 18 is something you don't forget.
- Pay attention to the silence. One of Eva's hallmarks is the long, still shots. It uses silence to build tension better than any horror movie.
- Watch with a friend. You’re going to need someone to talk to after the "Elevator Scene" or the "Hospital Scene." Trust me.
Neon Genesis Evangelion isn't just a show; it's a landmark. It changed how anime was made, moving the industry away from simple toy commercials and toward avant-garde storytelling. It’s messy, it’s frustrating, and it’s occasionally pretentious. But it’s also one of the few pieces of media that feels like it’s actually screaming at you to live your life.
To truly understand the impact of the series, look at the landscape of modern media. From Pacific Rim to Stranger Things, the DNA of Anno's work is everywhere. It taught a generation that it's okay to be broken, as long as you keep trying to reach out to others. Even if you get poked by a few spikes along the way.
The best way to engage with the series today is to start with the 26-episode original run available on major streaming platforms, followed immediately by the film The End of Evangelion. Once you've processed the "Third Impact," proceed to the Rebuild films to see the director's modern, more hopeful perspective on the same story. This provides the most complete emotional arc for the franchise.