
1997 · Kazuya Tsurumaki
For when you want to be flattened, not entertained — a film to chew on, argue about, and possibly recover from. Absolutely not comfort viewing; save it for a night when you're ready to be challenged. (See the series first.)
The theatrical conclusion to the Evangelion saga: shadowy committee SEELE launches an all-out military assault on NERV to seize the giant Evas, while a shattered teenage pilot, Shinji, is dragged toward a decision about the fate of all humanity. What begins as a siege escalates into full apocalypse — psychological, spiritual, and cosmic at once.
Overwhelming is the only word — balletic military carnage giving way to imagery that shades into religious vision, all while the film digs mercilessly into its hero's despair. It is confrontational, sometimes punishing, and it will not leave you alone for days afterward.
Gainax's animators work at the edge of the possible, from meticulous mech combat to avant-garde passages that briefly abandon animation for live-action footage. Director Hideaki Anno pours his own depression and his fraught relationship with his audience directly into the film — real hate mail he received appears on screen. Demands good speakers and your full attention.
One of the most confrontational works ever released by a major animation studio, and the fiercely debated capstone that cemented Evangelion's status as anime's great psychological landmark.
When Hideaki Anno's television series Neon Genesis Evangelion ended in 1996 with two abstract, budget-starved episodes of pure introspection, the fan outcry was ferocious. This theatrical film is his second answer — an apocalypse rendered with the resources the series never had, and one of the most confrontational works ever produced by a major animation studio. It is at once a staggering feat of craft — Gainax's animators working at the edge of the possible, from balletic military carnage to imagery that shades into religious vision — and a raw act of self-exposure, Anno's depression and his vexed relationship with his own audience written directly into the film. Real hate mail he received appears on screen; a live-action passage briefly abandons animation altogether, as if the medium itself had buckled. Kazuya Tsurumaki co-directed; Shiro Sagisu's score sets annihilation to choral serenity. Few films have so thoroughly interrogated why we retreat into fiction while being an overwhelming fiction themselves. Its influence saturates mecha anime, but nothing since has matched its temperature — a work of genuine crisis, finished in fury and, somehow, ending on an open question.
Lines of influence
Appears in courses