Evangelion 1.0 + 3.0: Thrice Upon a Time Review: The never-ending story finally ends

[Ed. note: This review of the final Evangelion movie, Evangelion 1.0+3.0: Thrice Upon a Time, is being published in accordance with the studio’s review embargo. The film will premiere on Amazon Prime Video on Aug. 13.]

The end of Evangelion has arrived – this time really.

26 years after the TV premiere of Neon Genesis Evangelion (and 24 years after his alternative theater end, The end of Evangelion), Hideaki Anno’s seemingly endless saga is finally over. The highly anticipated, long-delayed fourth installment in the Rebuild of Evangelion film series, which retells the story of the original TV series, Evangelion 1.0 + 3.0: Three times at a time climbs the steep emotional walls of his predecessors and bleeds his fingers on the ascent. But also unusually calm stretches that allow moving reflections with the main characters of the film, the young mecha pilots Ikari Shinji (Ogata Megumi), Shikinami Asuka Langley (Miyamura Yūko) and Ayanami Rei (Hayashibara Megumi). It’s bold, dazzling, introspective, and at times disturbing, which makes it a fitting ending not just for the new series of films but for the Evangelion story as a whole.

A far-reaching, action-packed opening leads to the conflict between NERV – now a nihilistic death cult under the leadership of Shinji’s father Ikari Gendo (Tachiki Fumihiko), a man who wants to trigger the apocalypse – and WILLE, the emerging resistance force, led again by a stoic one Katsuragi Misato (Mitsuishi Kotono). Shinji’s once cheerful guardian now commands a battalion led by two Evangelions controlled by Asuka and Mari (Sakamoto Maaya). At that time, 14 years have passed in the world since the reconstruction History started in 2007 Evangelion: 1.0 You are (not) alone. During this time, NERV’s horde of new Evangelion units can no longer be distinguished from the monstrous, interdimensional “angels” they were once supposed to defeat.

In order to thwart them, WILLE puts together fleets of floating naval vessels in increasingly complex formations. (One of those ships, the Miracles, continues to house Shinji’s former Eva, Unit 01.) While the opening largely sets the film’s war-torn backdrop, it takes the form of a kaleidoscopic tableau, the scale of which virtually dwarfs that of the series’ previous Mecha -Kaiju punch ups. It realizes once and for all how inconceivably huge, interconnected, and all-consuming human creations have become in this series. The action looks spectacular but feels increasingly desperate.

155 minutes long – an hour longer than 2012 Evangelion 3.0 You can (not) repeat – Not only is the movie packed full of action-packed spectacle, it also has a significant amount of downtime. It opens shortly after the events of the previous film, immersing the audience in a world that has tried to heal and rebuild as Shinji, Asuka, and Rei get used to living in a tiny, self-sustaining village made by Rubble is surrounded and populated by friendly volunteers. These scenes show the kind of rustic simplicity and joie de vivre that is at stake as the threat of a fourth, and possibly final, apocalypse looms. As part of the larger series, this brief escape offers not only indications of a normality that these child soldiers have never known, but a serene portrait of their lives if they were not tied to harmful circumstances and the whims of cruel adults.

This is the literal story, but “literal” is rarely the lingua franca of the series. Rebuilding Movies that started as the TV show’s reboot never made their connection to previous versions of the story explicit, but this rural escape feels like a stolen glimpse at a much friendlier alternate reality. But as long as Shinji, Asuka and Rei control the Evangelions – be it voluntarily or because they are among the only ones who can – happiness is of course just a fantasy. The film spends its time in these sections of the village and then begins an extended, action-packed plunge into a realm of abstraction, amid an enormous crescendo that distorts the series’ already unsettling imagery and spins it far enough to create something entirely new .

The character drama on which the action is based is an emotional eye-catcher. Shinji still hates himself. Trying to save the world and the “original” Rei in 2009 Evangelion: 2.0 You can (not) move forward, he was manipulated to unleash the apocalyptic Third Impact and in his desperate attempts to undo the damage 3.0, he almost triggered a fourth. This disaster was prevented, at least temporarily, but led to the terrible death of Nagisa Kaworu (Ishida Akira), whom Shinji witnessed at close range. As in Neon Genesis, Kaworu, an “angel” in human form, was the only person who showed Shinji unconditional love to the world.

Shinji cannot imagine that he deserves the kindness of the villagers. For fear of causing more damage, he can hardly make decisions. Asuka, who undoubtedly cares for him, loathes him for his indecision and the way it hurt her, to the point that she’s violent towards him rather than the cute, slapstick way you see her Neon Genesis

. For fans who have long taken care of these characters, their ongoing physical and emotional agony is incredibly difficult to watch.

These beats feel familiar as they reflect the story that’s set in. is told Neon Genesis and That End of the Evangelion, but they arrive with the extra layer of Shinji and Asuka trapped in their teenage bodies for the 14-year-old gap between the second and third films, as a physical side-effect of controlling their Evas. This is both a key to Asuka’s frustration at the inability to move forward and the ultimate expression of Shinji’s arrested emotional development, which in turn challenges a world-weary Misato who shuts between protecting Shinji as it was before and saving the world is torn at any cost. Meanwhile, the new Rei – a copy of the version in previous films that was itself a clone of Shinji’s mother – is a multiple broken person. She lacks a sense of identity, so she struggles to overcome the same emotional numbness that continues to plague Shinji. While your journey won’t take too much time, it is especially moving as it offers the sharpest and most direct contrast between life under Gendo’s manipulative thumb, as she does in 3.0, and finally escaped.

Freedom in the world of Three times at a time, is a rare and valuable thing. When it finally appears, it takes the form of small joys and simple joys – moments when other people share the burdens of existence – and it begins to feel even more precious as Gendo’s planned catastrophe approaches.

As it turns out, perhaps more than any other character, Gendo is the ultimate stamp who the reconstruction Series from previous iterations. His fanatical focus on “instrumentality” – the amalgamation of all human consciousness so that he can finally reunite with his deceased wife – has long been an implicit reason for his rejection of Shinji. In previous conclusions on the story (episode 26 of Neon Genesis

Series, and The end of Evangelion), Shinji’s self-actualization, his rejection of instrumentality and his desire to continue to exist were again an implicit rejection of Gendo. But in this movie, her tense father-son dynamic is a much more central part of the story. As this conflict unfolds, the film’s path feels both familiar, in its use of impressionistic montages and a wild variety of animated aesthetics, and entirely new because of the ideas and imagery these montages contain and what weaknesses they reveal.

The plot is dense enough for one Evangelion Film where lore and mythological concepts become relevant only moments after they are introduced. The series has always laid its tracks right in front of the train, but the logistics behind a glowing crucifix or a holy lance, for example, are hardly the most important part of the saga. The sudden injection of these things into a particular scene is usually a function of Gendo being 10 steps ahead of everyone else while the heroes of WILLE struggle to grapple with literally infernal concepts just to keep up.

Viewers may wonder what these concepts mean for the plot, but an infinitely more intriguing question is what they mean for a story where characters – even smaller ones – are hopelessly inferior to gigantic symbols of their own cosmic insignificance. What is the story of the Evangelion franchise if not the quest for that fleeting glimpse of human worth in the face of vast, ceaseless nihilism?

Anno and co-directors Tsurumaki Kazuya, Maeda Mahiro and Nakayama Katsuichi perform the Herculean feat of ending the same story a third time while making sure that ending finally feels final. They provide a meta-textual explanation for this finality that makes certain earlier interpretations of the Rebuild films a little more explicit. But in the end all attempts are that Evangelion Ranks in a neat chronological canon are likely to be pointless, and rightly so. Each iteration of the story is in its own way about finding ways to move forward and deal with the ugliness of existence, a narrative that crosses ones and zeros every time it warps human flesh and the most vulnerable parts of the world exposed human soul.

with Three times at a time, Anno finds the most meaningful way for Shinji to face the cycles of trauma, depression, and self-loathing he has been trapped in since 1995, and where Anno is trapped next to him as he repeats Shinji’s story. The answer, it seems, is for Shinji to finally approach his problems instead of running away from them. That sounds simple enough. Asuka has even given him this solution for two and a half decades. But when every action or decision carries the weight of the world – whether it’s getting on the robot or just getting out of bed – no challenge could be more devastating, and no rigorous self-reflection more cathartic or affirmative.