Review of Neon Genesis Evangelion
Neon Genesis Evangelion is a wildly experimental and utterly distinctive anime that stands as a resounding triumph. The story kicks off with a straightforward premise: 14-year-old Shinji Ikari is summoned by his distant, seemingly detached father to NERV, an organization tasked with nothing less than safeguarding humanity from annihilation. Upon arrival, his father’s first words are a command to pilot a colossal biomechanical robot—the Evangelion—and confront a monstrous entity assaulting Tokyo-3, the city above NERV’s headquarters. These enigmatic foes, dubbed Angels, appear unstoppable, shrugging off conventional weapons even in the futuristic year of 2015. Only the Eva units, operable solely by a select group of14-year-olds, can stand against them. This is merely the launching pad for a narrative that spirals into a labyrinth of mystery, suspense, and jaw-dropping twists, each moment brimming with intellectual provocation and gripping intrigue.
The characters are the soul of the series, outshining even the Angels or NERV itself. Shinji Ikari emerges as one of anime’s most authentic and deeply relatable protagonists. Some might find his raw emotionality excessive or grating, but transforming him into a grinning Hollywood savior would betray the story’s essence—no such person could exist, and Studio Gainax nails this truth with precision. Shinji’s psychological turmoil is masterfully explored by director Hideaki Anno through intricate monologues and bold, often successful experimental filmmaking. Fellow pilots Asuka and Rei, the other chosen teens, are brilliantly conceived opposites whose development unfolds in captivating ways, anchoring Evangelion in its profound character-driven core.
Visually, the series is a feast of originality. The Evas burst with vivid color, while the Angels—ranging from a towering blue diamond to a microscopic viral entity that sabotages NERV’s systems—are arresting and unforgettable. This variety sidesteps the tired "Monster of the Week" trope, keeping the action dynamic and engaging. The much-debated Judeo-Christian symbolism weaves through the narrative, never feeling forced but always striking and thought-provoking. Though often surface-level, it jolts viewers into pondering the series’ deeper layers. The platinum remastered animation I viewed is sharp and pristine—the only version worth owning—with visuals that stun and linger long after the credits roll. Provocative imagery, like a bandaged, bleeding Rei in the premiere or a toothpick holder cheekily obscuring Shinji’s modesty in episode two, blends visceral shocks with playful gags.
The soundtrack is unforgettable, perfectly attuned to every scene. Triumphant trumpets herald Asuka and Shinji’s battlefield victories, while subtle, introspective melodies capture Rei’s essence. The opening theme ranks among my all-time favorites, never growing old across all 26 episodes.
The final two episodes spark fierce debate, pushing Evangelion’s experimental edge to its zenith. While far from "bad," they leave a frustratingly incomplete taste. Fortunately, the follow-up film, End of Evangelion, delivers a spectacular remedy. Reimagining episodes 25 and 26 beyond Shinji’s psyche, it’s a tour de force that not only meets the series’ lofty bar but arguably surpasses it, cementing its place among anime’s greatest cinematic achievements and giving the story a breathtaking finale.
I could go on about the stellar dub, impeccable pacing, or top-notch sound design, but suffice it to say they match the series’ excellence. Neon Genesis Evangelion fully earns its legendary reputation as one of the finest TV series—animated or otherwise—I’ve encountered. Every episode is a masterwork, a sheer delight to experience. I wholeheartedly urge you to dive into this anime—it’s an absolute must-watch!