It’s been decades since Shinji Ikari sat on that desolate, red-stained beach. People are still arguing about it. Honestly, Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion isn't just a movie; it’s a cultural scar that never quite healed. When it first hit Japanese theaters in 1997, it was basically a cinematic middle finger to a fanbase that had sent death threats to director Hideaki Anno after the original TV ending.
You’ve probably seen the screenshots. The giant, decaying Rei Ayanami. The sea of LCL. That hospital scene that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. But beneath the "what the hell did I just watch" energy lies a masterpiece of psychological deconstruction. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s painfully human.
The Chaos Behind the Creation of The End of Evangelion
Production was a nightmare. That’s the simplest way to put it. Gainax was running out of money, and Anno was spiraling into a deep, dark clinical depression. The original TV ending (Episodes 25 and 26) was essentially a series of internal monologues and line drawings because they literally couldn't finish the animation. Fans felt betrayed. They wanted explosions; they got a therapy session.
So, Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion was conceived as the "real" ending. But if fans thought they were getting a standard hero's journey, they were dead wrong. Anno gave them exactly what they asked for, but in the most brutal, nihilistic way possible. He turned the "chosen one" trope inside out and showed us a protagonist who was too broken to save anyone, let alone himself.
It’s interesting to look at the animation quality here compared to the series. Production I.G. stepped in to help, and the jump in fluid movement and horrific detail is staggering. The sequence where Asuka takes on the Mass Produced Evas is still considered one of the high-water marks of hand-drawn action. It’s visceral. You can feel every puncture, every tear in the metal.
The Third Impact and the Loss of Individual Identity
The central plot—if you can call it that—revolves around Instrumentality. Basically, SEELE and NERV have different ideas about how to force humanity to evolve. The end result is the Third Impact, where everyone’s souls are forcibly merged into one giant soup of consciousness. No more loneliness. No more pain. But also, no more "self."
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This is where the movie gets heavy on the philosophy. It leans hard into Schopenhauer’s "Hedgehog’s Dilemma." The idea is that humans are like hedgehogs in winter; we want to get close for warmth, but our spines hurt each other. Instrumentality is the "solution" to that pain—by removing the spines and the distance entirely.
What Most People Get Wrong About Shinji’s Choice
Most viewers walk away from Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion thinking it’s a total "bad ending." Shinji is miserable. Asuka is traumatized. The world is a graveyard.
But is it actually a tragedy?
In the final moments, Shinji rejects Instrumentality. He decides that even if living means hurting others and being hurt, he wants to exist as an individual. He chooses the "pain of being alive" over the "peace of being nothing." That’s a remarkably hopeful message buried under layers of body horror. It’s Anno telling the audience—and himself—that it’s okay to be broken as long as you keep trying to connect.
I remember reading an interview where Anno mentioned that Evangelion was his life. He was pouring his own recovery process onto the screen. When Shinji tells Rei/Kaworu that he wants to see his friends again, even if they hate him, that’s the core of the film. It’s about the terrifying necessity of other people.
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The Symbolism of the Final Scene
"Kimochi warui."
"How disgusting" or "I feel sick." Those are the final words of the movie, spoken by Asuka as Shinji strangles her on the beach. It’s an ending that leaves you cold. Why did he do it? Why did she react like that?
Some critics, like Susan J. Napier in her extensive work on anime culture, suggest this scene represents the absolute reality of human interaction. Even in the apocalypse, humans are messy and irrational. Shinji strangles her to confirm she’s real—because a hallucination wouldn't fight back or feel disgusting. It’s the ultimate rejection of the "perfect" world offered by the Third Impact.
Why the Animation Still Holds Up Today
If you watch Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion on a modern 4K restoration, it’s haunting. The blend of traditional cel animation with early CGI and even live-action footage was revolutionary.
- The live-action sequence in the theater: This was a literal shot of a Japanese audience. It breaks the fourth wall to tell the viewers to stop hiding in fiction and go live their lives.
- The "Red Earth" palette: The use of primary reds and stark whites creates a sense of dread that modern digital coloring often fails to replicate.
- Sound design: Shiro Sagisu’s score is iconic. Using "Air on the G String" during a massacre is the kind of juxtaposition that shouldn't work, but it defines the Evangelion aesthetic.
The film doesn't hold your hand. It expects you to know the lore, but it also expects you to feel the atmosphere. It’s not a movie you "watch"—it’s a movie you "endure."
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The Legacy of the 1997 Masterpiece
Without this film, we wouldn't have the "Rebuild of Evangelion" movies. We probably wouldn't have the darker, more deconstructive turn that mecha anime took in the 2000s. It proved that anime could be high art, capable of tackling existentialism and psychoanalysis alongside giant robot fights.
Even today, you see its influence in everything from Pacific Rim to Stranger Things. The imagery of a "forbidden" ritual and the cosmic horror of a god-like being descending on Earth is baked into the DNA of modern sci-fi.
Actionable Insights for Navigating the Eva Mythos
If you’re planning a rewatch or diving in for the first time, keep these points in mind to keep your head from exploding.
- Watch Episode 24 first. You need the emotional weight of Kaworu’s death to understand why Shinji is in a catatonic state at the start of the movie.
- Don't ignore the live-action segments. They aren't just filler; they are the key to Hideaki Anno’s message to the fans. He’s talking directly to you.
- Pay attention to the background chatter. A lot of the technical "technobabble" about the Tree of Life and the S2 Engine actually explains the mechanics of the ritual, though the emotional beats matter more.
- Compare it to 'Thrice Upon a Time'. If you find the 1997 ending too bleak, the final Rebuild movie (released in 2021) acts as a much more traditional, "happy" closure to the same themes.
The film remains a polarizing landmark. You might hate it. You might think it’s a pretentious mess. But you can't deny that Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion forced the entire medium of animation to grow up. It’s a raw, bleeding heart of a movie that refuses to give easy answers. In a world of sanitized, corporate storytelling, that's something worth holding onto.
To truly grasp the impact, look at the transition from the frantic action of the first half (Air) to the surreal, ego-dissolving journey of the second (Sincerely Yours). The shift mirrors a mental breakdown, moving from external conflict to internal collapse. It is, quite literally, the end of the world as Shinji knows it, and he—and we—have to decide if that's a good thing or not.