#jpt2025

"End of Evangelion"

End of Evangelion is one of the bleakest films I have ever watched, which is saying something coming from someone with a Letterboxd the length of the Nile. After hours upon hours of bearing witness to the evolution of countless characters, plot twists, and the veritable loop-de-loops that the story takes you on, to know that this is how it all shook out left me borderline catatonic. EoE, in my eyes, is comprised of three parts: Shinji’s recognition of his futility within the grand scheme of his wider existence in the world, the maturation (or lack thereof) of his relationship with Asuka, and finally, the Human Instrumentality Project (H.I.P.) and the Third Impact’s clear relation to Christianity and Christendom as a whole.

Over the course of the film, we watch as Shinji, who previously has been little else but an instrument of his father’s will and a reluctant participant in the whole of NERV’s works, struggles to reconcile himself with the very things that he has been doing, as well as form meaningful relationships. Everyone who once looked kindly upon Shinji met their demise, leaving him completely and utterly alone, resulting in Shinji adopting a rather self-flagellating worldview. Misato, his former mentor and elder-sister figure, gives her life saving Shinji, protecting him from harm, closing out the pair’s narrative loop where she rescued Shinji from certain death in episode 1 of the original series. Misato also advances herself sexually onto Shinji mere moments before her death, promising that she will sleep with him if he returns to her alive and in one piece—an obvious extension of Misato’s compulsion to use her femininity to communicate things she is incapable of saying verbally—and sends off the character with a bang, albeit with the implication that her death was less than final.

It’s impossible to discuss Evangelion without making mention of that hospital scene—but first, we need context. Shinji and Asuka have always been at odds, first as roommates, then rivals, and finally as emotionally stunted lovers who dance around one another in a manner that results in the pair regarding one another through a lens where each perceives the other as running counter to their own existence, contradictory on the grounds of differing beliefs and behaviors. When we are first introduced to Asuka, we see her as a child prodigy, a true genius who was all but made for the EVA program. We witness Asuka thrive in her role as a pilot, standing on the cutting edge of the program and serving as the basis against which her fellow pilot, Shinji, is measured. The pair are obviously attracted to one another, but their psychological issues prevent them from truly sharing their feelings with one another—Shinji, with his timidness and sexual ineptitudes, fails to pick up on Asuka’s pursuit(s) of him, effectively shunning her by consistently passing by any opportunity to engage with Asuka in any manner outside the surface level, if even that. Asuka’s headstrong nature and conception(s) of what Shinji ought to be as the “strong male” to her “strong female’, coupled with Shinji’s own deficiencies, make for a relationship that suffers a great many twists and turns, eventually culminating in the infamous hospital scene where Shinji kisses Asuka while she is in a coma and even pleasures himself to her naked body, which is implied to be a common occurrence.

Both Shinji and Asuka, on separate occasions, ask the other to be their devoted, romantic partner, and on both occasions, the other refuses. Asuka implores Shinji to surrender himself to her in his entirety, a request he refuses out of a lack of self-esteem and the belief that nobody truly loves him in any way that matters, and Shinji begs Asuka to be his better half, to be with her forever—a request that she denies despite desiring him anyway. Asuka and Shinji’s relationship is the final thing that the viewer sees in terms of the overarching story of Evangelion, with Shinji attempting to choke the life from Asuka whilst in tears after the Third Impact, only to give up once the latter caresses his cheek before spitting nigh-venomously in his direction, alone in an ocean of red. The two are the perfect illustration of what havoc toxic love, genuine as it might be, can wreak when exhibited by two deeply traumatized individuals.

As for the Third Impact itself, it has overt similarities to the Biblical concept of The Second Coming, or the Rapture. The liberation of souls from physical form to unite with a singular entity, within which they will be complete and want for nothing, rationalized as the natural progression of humanity—its destiny truly—is likely the basis upon which the Third Impact and the H.I.P. are predicated, not to mention the wealth of cross motifs to be found across the length and breadth of the anime, chief among them being Misato’s pendant, which we see Shinji journey on with, and the cross-shaped beams that erupt forth when the entire occurrence is at hand and the souls of Evangelion’s world are being harvested. Shinji, as close to a messianic figure as Evangelion ever gets, falters in the face of absolute power, condemning himself and the entire world to death on the back of his sense of inferiority and belief that the human race is beyond saving—only to then about-face and champion individuality, determined to bring about change, only to succeed and realize the damage is done; the world is barren and forever unchanged.

EoE wraps with the realization that Gendo Ikari, through bringing about the Third Impact, technically won—and now, his son, alongside his Madonna, must go forth and remake the world in his image—a Neo(n) Genesis.

“Hetalia: Axis Powers” is an… interesting piece of media commentary. For the most part, it centers on the events of World Wars One and Two, albeit through a rather unconventional lens. Consisting of satirical stereotypes of many of the world’s nations, Hetalia seems to go out of its way to portray each country in the most unflattering light possible through the use of said stereotypes, while also skirting the very things that brought said stereotypes into existence in the first place.

Take Hetalia’s portrayal of Germany: a blonde, blue-eyed, muscle-bound behemoth with a feverish dedication to authority, structure, and order—the very definition of an Aryan Ubermensch—and yet, Germany’s more…sensitive behaviors during WWII are all but glossed over, if not played for laughs. The same can be said of France, painted as a flamboyant Casanova-esque libertine who drapes himself along furniture, wine glass in hand while muttering to himself about former glories, only to be rebuked with commentary on how quick he is to “surrender.” However, the worst offense, by far, is that of the anime’s portrayal of Italy.

Depicted as a sniveling wreck who clings to Germany’s coat-tails, Italy is presented as if he is little else but a weakling who breaks down into sobbing fits and mewls to the heavens for his “big brother” whenever faced with any issue at all, devoid of any ability to stand up for himself. This depiction reaches its most heinous when it comes time to examine the events of WWII. During this time period, Italy wages war on Greece, invades Ethiopia for the second time in fifty years, and under Mussolini, literally invents fascism, which ironically is what inspires Hitler to found the National Socialist party and carry out the atrocities that go on to plague Europe.

In the real world, Italy is the birthplace of the ideology that results in Germany attaining their reputation and/or stereotypes that are played up in Hetalia- iincluding the "Roman" salute, also invented under Mussolini- and by all rights, the anime’s depiction of them both should be on relatively level ground; however, Germany is presented in a seemingly sympathetic light, as a stalwart, practical force, while Italy, the birthplace of one of the greatest art movements in human history, the cradle of the Roman Empire, and the originator of fascist thought, is reduced to “Pasta!!!”

Could you reasonably make the argument that Hetalia’s treatment and/or portrayal of each nation is a carefully curated effort engineered to point out the irrationality of basing your understanding of a country on its stereotypes? Of course—but doing so would inadvertently run counter to the very idea of a national identity. Despite the fact that stereotyping is an illogical practice at best, one cannot refute the fact that a great deal of them are based in truth or have a foundation in national identity.

Hetalia’s personification of France is a licentious philanderer who often fondles anyone in his line of sight—this is obviously the integration of the stereotype that France is a nation of sensuality and closed-door depravity, which in itself is patently false; however, France does have a history of being relatively liberal in terms of sexuality. The French Revolution resulted in the decriminalization of homosexuality at the back end of the 18th century, and the feminine desire for intimacy, physical and domestic, was all but legitimized in the 19th century with the advent of the "ménage à trois," or “household of three,” denoting a dwelling consisting of a man, a woman, and a lover to be enjoyed by one or the other, if not shared between the two.

A departure from the norm, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 happens to be a video game, as opposed to the TV shows and films that this blog has chronicled up until now—which I find to be rather delightful, as picking apart video games and their plotlines happens to be my specialty. That said, this particular game seems to have one of the most poignant commentaries I have ever interacted with, and this is coming from somebody with well over 200 hours in each of the Metal Gear games, Cyberpunk 2077, Deus Ex, and the works.I am no stranger to interactive commentary, which is part of why I am astounded that I had never played either of the Xenoblade games; so, in preparation, I decided to borrow my cousin's copy and wrench around with the game for a while to gain some additional insight.

Simply put, Xenoblade 2 takes place in a world that seems to be one ginormous ocean, inhabited by colossal creatures named “Titans” (no relation to those of Rumbling fame) who appear to essentially be dragons with stone scales. Said Titans are capable of speech and so large that they are each able to sustain life upon their backs and, in doing so, take the form of nation-states, quite literally imbuing the “ground” beneath a given individual’s feet with life, as it is, again, literally alive… although, not for long. One of the very first points that Xenoblade 2 makes is that the Titans are beginning to die out, and with them, life itself. It is here where Xenoblade 2 begins to make its commentary on the nature of humanity and its interaction(s) with the environment. 

We go on to discover that the reason the Titans are dying out is because a man by the name of Amalthus is “cleansing” the world of Blades. For clarity’s sake, Blades are beings who are effectively sentient weaponry and imbue their users with supernatural powers in battle. Blades go on to evolve into Titans, sustaining a sense of a circle of life. Amalthus, jaded and despondent with the state of the world, as well as humanity itself, possesses the belief that in order for there to be true order, true unity between humanity and the environment it inhabits, he must orchestrate a "cleansing" of sorts. This means all life must be tightly and rigidly controlled, or face eradication; a philosophy which directly results in the deaths of the Titans, and the shrinking of humanity's livable territories, which in turn drives a reduction in the human population.

The argument could be made that the slow demise of the Titans, effectively the shrinking of available, livable land, parallels humanity’s own loss of the environment. Xenoblade 2’s world is a uniform ocean, and climate change, the result of human activity, is contributing to the rising of our own ocean levels. To this end, Xenoblade 2 stands as an example of what may come to pass if current patterns continue unchanged. In this way, Xenoblade 2 posits that humanity is not only integral to nature, but that it is impossible to possess the belief that you are able to remove humanity from the equation of nature as a whole without upsetting an already extremely delicate balance, threatening not only humanity’s future, but the fate of the entire world.

JJK is many things to many people- the inspiration behind fanfiction, a medium from which to source cosplay ideas, the subject of thinkpieces, the occasional “who would win in a fight” YouTube video, and an excuse to watch a story that is essentially a portmanteau of Naruto and Harry Potter- but I never expected it to get to me. Full disclosure, I was never really able to get into JJK; not for any one reason, it just never stuck with me. Maybe I’m Shonen Jump-ed out or suffering from “Chosen One” fatigue, but the show never seemed to make it’s mark on my soul the way it had for other people- which is something that gnawed away at me for months, if not years on end, my inability to assimilate into the current cultural supernova; however- I think that’s changed now.

Season Two of JJK, the “Hidden Inventory” arc, is essentially a prequel, which might be part of why I was able to really get into it this go-round. Chronicling the story of Gojo “Six-Eyes” Satoru and his struggle to overcome what very well may be the worst day of his life, this section of the anime delves into how children, at least in JJK’s world, are made to shoulder the burdens of their fellow man, to serve as vanguards for the betterment of humanity, disregarding their own safety. One of the core characters, one Suguru Geto, echoes this same sentiment, making a moral argument that the strong have a duty to protect and safeguard the weak, in order to allow them to remain weak, as is their lot in life.

This deterministic outlook parallels many of the same philosophical treatises proposed by those who adhere to determinist philosophy, some of which relates to the nature of strength vs weakness. There are those who would posit that those burdened with excellence, sheer overwhelming power, have a responsibility to use it in order to shield those who do not share that privilege- however, there are also voices in the mist that argue that, no, strength should be used to subjugate the masses and enforce one’s will, as the strong have the proverbial mandate of heaven to do as they please, as determined at their birth.

In JJK, these philosophies are represented by Geto and Gojo respectively, however, after the former’s tragic death and subsequent transformation into the anime’s antagonist, their philosophies appear to reverse, which I found to be fascinating.

My god, what a work of fiction. For one, allow me to get out a thought that has been haunting me ever since the introductory credits rolled- Violet’s own name. Now, I understand that it might be a bit of a low-brow assertion to make, but I implore you to follow along with me and suspend your disbelief for just a moment. Violet, the word “violet”, phonetically sounds VERY similar to vio-LENCE, for good reason obviously, as I’m sure you’ve begun to think, seeing as how they share many of the same letters. However, “read” and “read” are the SAME word, but sound radically different, as do “rouge” and “rouge” - a handsome “rouge” and the color “rouge”, respectively. I make mention of this because Violet is herself, very nearly indistinguishable from violence. A child soldier, raised in the ways of warfare, some would argue, even engineered by it, now faces a world that has no need for her any more, a largely peaceful land, fertile, lush and rich with life, perpetually green. This “Violet”, must shed vio-LENCE, and learn to inhabit a world of ever-gardens. Beautiful, no?

The anime’s handling of the innate traumas that come with being a child soldier, the training that one must be subject to in order to survive such an ordeal, time and time again, both physically and mentally, is stellar. When we are first introduced to Violet, it would appear she has no identity outside of being a warrior, her first instinct is to seek her commanding officer, to prostrate herself before his authority and operate, not as an individual who is a member of an armed force, but rather, a tool- a tool to be used in any way seen fit by those who one views as superior. It would appear that war has rid Violet of any desire to be anything but an extension of warfare, greeting her new patrons with a military salute, standing at parade rest when in the midst of being offered a softer, peaceful life, and even addressing individuals in a matter-of-fact way, as one would expect a junior officer to address a CO.

The entire length of the anime chronicles how Violet fails to see any innate value within herself that does not involve violence or her commanding officer in some way- she constantly attributes effectively everything in her life to being the result of an authority’s role in her life, attributing herself no agency whatsoever outside of executing commands, and as such, fails to find any reason to stay alive after the end of the war, explicitly requesting to be cast to the side, as she has failed to be useful.

This parallels the struggles that military members face when returning to civilian life, the rigor and structure of the military, having overridden their psychology as it was designed to do, now has no place in their new world, and the process of shedding something that was ingrained within you by force and then reinforced time and time again over the course of several years is an arduous task, and one that can be likened to taking scrap metal, forging it into a sword, melting it down, forging it again, repeating the process until it becomes nigh-unbreakable, then tossing it to the side, expecting it to become scrap metal again on it’s own.

Equal parts heart-breaking and thrilling, this anime whisked me off my feet, then proceeded to kick me in the sternum- and God save me, I love it all the more for it.

AKIRA is a post-apocalyptic film unlike any other. Where most movies would tend to go down the route of “Mad Max” or “I Am Legend, where the world has been transformed beyond any hope of true human existence, AKIRA instead takes the path of questioning what life would be like if humanity, rather than capitulate to the destruction of the world as they know it, instead opted to rebuild, and construct a newer, higher existence, in the face of insurmountable odds. AKIRA takes place in a Japan just over three-decades following the dropping of the atomic bomb on Japan- however, rather than being dropped by the United States on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the late 1940s to end WWII, this bomb is instead dropped by unknown forces on Tokyo in 1988, effecting the start of World War THREE.

The post-war, 21st-century Tokyo depicted in the film, dubbed “Neo” Tokyo, is portrayed as this glittering faux-paradise, characterized by neon light, futuristic vehicles, and glittering city-scapes, similar to those found in Evangelion. In this way, AKIRA is more of a cyberpunk film than anything else, as the culture and aesthetics of Neo Tokyo mirror those to be found in the fantasies of many other works of fiction that postulate a technologically advanced future. Oddly enough, AKIRA tends to also be relatively close in it’s predictions for what 2019 Tokyo would look like- the film was released in the late 80s, but is shockingly accurate all the same. The film itself follows a motorcycle-gang leader as he navigates a corrupt and morally depraved world. Said leader, Shotaro Kaneda, or simply “Kaneda”, is the boss of the Capsules, a name which comes to hold great relevance as the plot progresses. Kaneda and his Capsules engage in road-warrior antics with their rival biker gang one night, which ends in tragedy as one of their underlings, a boy by the name of Tetsuo, wipes out after coming into contact with what seems to be a small boy.

This small boy, we soon learn, is being hunted by the Japanese military, who arrive on the scene and subjugate Kaneda and his men at gunpoint, whisking away the small boy and Tetuso alike. Over the next handful of minutes, we witness the Japanese government, as well as what we assume is a third party, engage in genetic experimentation on children, in what we come to understand is one of the precursors to the now established “super-soldier” trope. What took me by surprise is the degree to which those who are/were in charge of the experiments were detached from the reality of what they were doing. Biologically engineering children in order to harness “the power of God”, only to snuff out a young life if it, not they, but rather “it”, fails to perform as desired or simply cannot hack it, is a callous portrayal of the nature of power, and the cold indifference of authority. We soon learn that the bomb dropped on Tokyo that set off WWIII was, in fact, dropped by the Japanese government itself after it’s child experimentation project(s) went awry, and necessitated the incineration of failed subjects, lest they rise up.

After his abduction, Tetsuo goes on to be just another subject of the government's experiments, where they discover that he just so happens to be shockingly powerful, so much so that he potentially could rival the very pinnacle of psychic ability. Tetsuo is nurtured, cultivated and molded into the ideal superweapon- but of course, it all goes sideways. Tetsuo gains powers, this is true- powers that enable him to do things no life form should be able to, but the strain of said abilities causes havoc on his psychological state, causing crippling mental illness. A sickness of the mind is a horrible thing in any situation, but doubly so when your superpowers, the very same ones that arguably make you nigh-omnipotent, come from that very same mind.

The film's core conflict is between Tetsuo and his inner self, the nature of his psychological degeneration and how that same degeneration endangers the whole of Neo Tokyo, if not the entirety of the world. AKIRA's ending takes Tetsuo to the natural resolution of his inner conflict- his demise. There is no world where a young boy, given the powers of a god, can overcome such deeply ingrained issues, and as a result, Tetsuo falls on the battlefield at the hands of his best friend and former partner, Kaneda. The story of a young boy, searching for meaning, craving adoration and power, ends with his evolution into a monster, and subsequent euthanasia.

The Japanese government’s pattern of attempting to subjugate children, experiment on the innocent, and attain power by any means necessary is indicative of why it is one of the most powerful films of the last century, and easily one of my favorite works of anime ever. 

"Neon Genesis Evangelion" (Pt.2)

Despite the fact that the anime never acknowledges it officially, I like to believe that Evangelion is effectively a story that revolves around a trio of protagonists, as opposed to Shinji specifically. This trio consists of Misato, of course, Shinji, and finally—Asuka (Langley) Sohryu. Asuka also happens to be Shinji’s roommate and partner in the EVA pilot program, paradoxical in the sense that he exists as his rival, sister figure, and object of romantic tension simultaneously.

As a matter of fact, nearly all of Shinji’s relationships with the women in his life are paradoxical, as Misato initially stands as his mentor figure but takes on a maternal, “big-sister” role and even approaches him sexually as the series progresses. Rei, who we discover is a genetic replica of Shinji’s own mother, struggles with feelings that, objectively, are effectively tantamount to incest, despite the two not being aware of it. This is not to mention Shinji’s relationship with his father, which in itself is beyond the scope of encapsulation. The manner in which Shinji engages with his father stands as a monument to the opposition of traditional masculinity. Where most stories would center on Shinji’s pursuit of his father’s love, yearning for his recognition as a noble act, Evangelion instead frames it as being deeply debilitating to Shinji’s well-being and those of the people around him.

Shinji’s father is a man who wields considerable power, and yet he uses it in a way that distances him from his son at a continuous rate, all in the name of a higher calling, an attachment to duty above all; the first time father and son meet after three years is so the former can instruct the latter to put his life on the line, instructed to do so or face abandonment once more. When Shinji initially refuses to do as his father orders, he parades Rei’s broken body before his son, as if to mock him for being a coward and requiring a broken girl to stand in his stead. Shinji eventually buckles under the weight of his father’s manipulation and goes on to become one of the most gifted pilots in the whole of the EVA program, carving through his enemies in glorious victory and suffering crushing defeats all the same until the core plot of the anime reaches its culmination and the final reveal—the whole of Evangelion, Shinji’s efforts, those of Asuka, Misato, and all others, have been in the furtherance of bringing about the Third Impact, a cataclysmic event where the whole of humanity is decimated and then re-integrated into a singular life form, viewed as the next logical step in the evolution of the species.

The Third Impact is an event that was initially meant to be carried out by the lies of SEELE and Shinji’s father in order to force humanity to evolve into higher-order beings, under the guise of the Human Instrumentality Project, or (H.I.P.). The elimination of individuality in the name of servicing the collective is a philosophy that informs certain manifestations of Christianity as well, self-sacrifice in the pursuit of building a more perfect world for all, now and into the future. Shinji eventually breaks free of the H.I.P.’s hold upon him, recognizing that his existence is a solitary one, devoid of all the things that make life worth living. In a way, the H.I.P. would ascend humanity by taking away everything that makes a human, well, human. Upon this realization, Shinji quite literally comes out of his shell, ready to live as he ought, as opposed to how he is told.

Neon Genesis Evangelion is… intriguing. A show that I have been meaning to get into for a fair bit longer than I’d like to admit, Evangelion is a cultural powerhouse, arguably one of the pillars of modern anime as a whole, at least amongst American audiences. Evangelion has enjoyed immense success, likely for a variable quantity of reasons, but I believe that the chief motivator behind the anime’s apparent evergreen status is its innate beauty.

Many would leap forward and assume that I mean that Evangelion is visually appealing, which it is, but the beauty I refer to is more holistic than such a trite definition of the word. A fair argument stands for the belief that Evangelion paved the road for most action/sci-fi anime of the 21st century and most definitely has one of the most recognizable opening themes ever produced for television, but Evangelion’s true strength lies within its plot, specifically within the intricacies of its events.

The opening moments of the anime take the viewer through a futuristic, if post-apocalyptic, Japan—a world beset upon by Kaiju-esque creatures by the names of Angels, who are combated by the full force of Japan’s armed forces. Evangelion has long been argued to be a Christian work, emphasized by the heavy influence that the faith has over the symbolism in the anime, as well as the fact that the word “Evangelion” itself, when translated from Biblical era Ancient Greek, approximates roughly to “good news,” otherwise related to spreading the gospel of Christ. Similar throughlines can be seen in the Evangelist manifestation of the Christian faith, which believes spreading the word of God is an individual’s highest calling. Remembering this, one can then apply the same concepts that drive Christian Evangelism to Evangelion itself; and having done so, discover that there appears to be a great many similarities between the two.

Evangelion kicks off with our main character, Shinji Ikari, a relatively young, if not surprisingly effeminate man, surviving an Angel attack with the help of Misato Katsuragi, a beautiful woman who, for all intents and purposes, has taken a shine to Shinji. Immediately, we are given the impression that Misato is either highly educated or, at the very least, involved in the military to a certain extent, as she is able to identify the munitions that the army intends to utilize in their efforts to incapacitate the Angel from a distance and react accordingly—shielding herself and Shinji from harm. Misato being the one to leap into action and protect Shinji is a deviation from the standard norm where the “strong, capable man” would throw himself into danger to protect who we must presume is either his love interest or a highly regarded female friend- as a matter of fact, Misato as a character stands as a contradiction to most gender norms in anime, as a sports-car driving sexual libertine who uses her sexuality to bridge gaps between herself and others, effectively communicating by weaponizing physical desire and lust, taking agency in her attractiveness and using it to her advantage, as opposed to most female characters in fiction who largely exist to be pined after or even dominated by the male character.

Shinji, on the other hand, is diminutive, weak, and weak-willed. In only a few minutes upon meeting him, we as the viewer are treated to the revelation that Shinji Ikari is… kind of a wuss. At the very least, Shinji exhibits traits that run counter to what we understand to be the cornerstones of masculinity, that is, an overindulgence in his emotions, reliance on others to execute his duties, simultaneous lack of romantic interest and inability to process sexual desire, as well as overall fragility, if not outright frailty. Over the course of the last handful of decades, Shinji has even become a bit of an LGBTQ+ touchstone due to his characterization and non-traditional masculinity, which in itself becomes a central theme throughout the anime as Shinji grows into the EVA pilot he was always destined to be.