The Neon Genesis Evangelion (1994-2013) franchise and individuality

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Japanese filmmaker, Hideaki Anno, is praised for his creation of the Evangelion franchise, a series that tackles deep themes of self-worth and individuality.

“Everything is simply a shape, a form, an identifier to let others recognize me as me! But then, what am I? Is this me? My true self? My fake self? What is it that I am?...” Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995), Shinji Ikari, the protagonist of the Neon Genesis Evangelion (NGE) franchise. 

Balancing one’s needs for the self amongst the wants/needs of peers, partners, guardians, and all other forces is no easy task. To maintain your innate wants and drive amongst the ever-pressing tide of life is something you should recognize as a victory within itself. Even so, if you fall victim to this pressure and your individuality strays in the riptide, there is still a way to live truly; you just need to reach out for it before it is out of reach. 

This is the thematic inner workings of Yoshiyuki Sadamoto’s hit manga Neon Genesis Evangelion (1994-2013) and the television series of the same name— Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995-1996)— created by Hideaki Anno. Together, these artists created a universe foregrounded in a mechs (essentially, big robots) fighting kaiju (monstrous creatures) and, at times, very questionable character decisions. Alongside are thematic undertones, caked in existential talking points, specifically about individuality amidst one’s social dependence and need for attention. 

The television series took this thematic undertone and used it as its guiding ethos for the story, but— as you are inevitably wondering— what does it say about these topics? That’s why we are here today, even if this topic is above The Lamron’s pay grade!

The story of the NGE franchise takes place in the near-distant future as kaiju-esque creatures— deemed angels in the show— try to destroy humanity through their might. Humanity’s only hope is giant, piloted mechs created by a global conglomerate named “NERV.” Within this world, we follow a newbie NERV pilot, 14-year-old Shinji Ikari, as he tries to rekindle a relationship with his estranged father— the director of NERV. While he does this monument task, Shinji must confront the fragmented, more nuanced parts of himself: his need to appease others, his need for order and control being out of his possession, and, most damningly, his need to be loved. 

These needs are not foreign to anyone— they are a natural part of everyday life. As humans, we crave order and stability— love and guidance— to live as what we deem to be our true selves. Every person seeks this idea of the true self— to live authentically with their being— yet obtaining this result is never as easy as just pursuing it. 

Within the context of the NGE franchise, for Shinji to begin to be his true self— making choices independent of the wants and needs of those around him— he resigns himself to relinquishing his personal ambitions for the wants of the collective. Shinji never takes action for himself; because of that, both NERV and angels exploit this child's insecurities for their own gain.  In time, it becomes clear that Shinji’s fatal flaw is his need for approval and, by proxy, to be loved by those around him; but in turn, what about us, the audience? 

Shinji is nothing more than a conduit to juxtapose yourself over, something to look at and cast your silhouette over, ruminating in the damning overlap. To see yourself as Shinji is not a flaw but an aspect you must recognize and deal with appropriately. As Hideaki Anno, the television series creator, stated, “Shinji does reflect my character, both in conscious and unconscious part. In the process of making [the NGE Franchise], I found out what kind of person I am. I acknowledged that I'm a fool.”  

The NGE Franchise is one with the exterior glamour of the stereotypical-mecha-based television series. Once that surface fades away, however, the interior reveals a retrospective opportunity to see yourself and your flaws on full display, projected into the mold of Shinji. 

If you are still asking yourself what the NGE franchise says about individuality, the truth is that it tells you nothing definitive; what rings true for you is at your discretion. Even so, you are treated to a grandiose display of the opposite: the damage that comes from compliance, in-action, complacency, and, most egregious, dependency. 

If the NGE franchise is to leave you with any one thing, it should be to never let yourself become like Shinji Ikari; to value your wants in the face of the world's demands— and never relinquish that control to any force.