UlasanAnime.com – Thanks to Amazon’s global rollout during the pandemic, the latest Evangelion film, Evangelion 3.0+1.0: Thrice Upon a Time, became accessible. Released on Friday, August 13, it joined the other Rebuild of Evangelion films on Amazon Prime Video. It’s advisable to watch 3.0+1.0 and Eva Q consecutively, as they function well as a double feature. Be aware that Thrice Upon a Time is also nearly 2.5 hours long, so plan your viewing time accordingly.
I personally subscribed to a 30-day trial of Amazon Prime to watch this movie. This also gave me the opportunity to catch up on The Expanse, a sci-fi TV series I’ve been following on and off. In the fifth season of The Expanse, the main crew revisits individuals they left behind in their past, which oddly mirrors a familiar sentiment in 3.0+1.0. It evokes a feeling of, “Wow, it’s been a while since I last saw a Hideaki Anno film, and this is just like all the others he’s made.” It’s akin to encountering a renowned older acquaintance from 20 years ago who has traveled the globe. Reconnecting with someone you haven’t seen in a long time can make you feel both aged and that the person has remained largely unchanged, aside from the natural progression of life and a thinning hairline.
That should suffice for spoilers regarding The Expanse, which is an enjoyable sci-fi adventure. I don’t understand why some label it as hard sci-fi; it’s not nearly rigorous enough for my taste. Regardless, spoilers are abundant from this point onward.
Evangelion, on the other hand, is indeed hard sci-fi. For those of us who have dedicated the time to watch, process, and analyze the work alongside others’ interpretations, there aren’t many surprises left, except for a curiosity about how Evangelion’s Rebuild would ultimately conclude. Given that the original story’s conclusion wasn’t entirely satisfying, even if emotionally it was rather chaotic, I believe we can agree that Anno should craft a narrative that lands more coherently, perhaps akin to an adult’s perspective. This might be what people refer to when discussing Evangelion in the context of therapy.
As I progress through the film, the science fiction elements distinctly shape the tone, pace, and framework of the narrative. When empathy and acceptance are assigned a measurable value akin to air pollution, when fear, respect, and holiness manifest as AT fields, and when Christian lore is integrated, such as in the naming of Fate GO attacks, we are firmly entrenched in the world of Evangelion, struggling to pilot the mechs.
It’s an interesting touch in 3.0+1.0 how the neck bombs are given significance, especially when Asuka wore them along with the device in her eyepatch as a point of contrast. And what is the deal with foreign objects entering eyes? Where were we headed when the final lance encountered Giant Naked Rei-Head’s right eye? There’s a psychological, raw reaction that contrasts with the sci-fi elements. Some might argue that dealing with orbital mechanics in sci-fi makes it difficult, but when terror is literally conceptualized as a scientific phenomenon, it somehow becomes more, I don’t know, relatable? I don’t believe anyone deserves the torment Shinji endured, although in our extraordinary yet terrible universe, some have certainly faced worse—certainly not a fraction of what most of us have experienced. Perhaps when we are exposed to the vacuum of space, we not only get lost but die from exposure. This is grim, but not as terrifying as being contaminated with L2 particles and transforming into a puddle of LCL goop.
What’s beautiful about 3.0+1.0 is that this terror is not only a level deeper than easily understandable causes of death but is also portrayed in a profoundly sad manner. To the extent that End of Evangelion and this particular film, as the conclusion to Rebuild, are about emotions entangled with technobabble, the meta-narrative is where all these emotions converge. Perhaps the simple difference between a teenager and an older adult is that the latter has had many years to reflect on their existence, their regrets, their good times, and to find a way to navigate that path for so long. In Eva, with its high death toll, maturity is self-selecting: if you’re not mature, you likely won’t survive that long! It’s simply sad, pitiful, and the worst kind of misfortune. The intensity of End of Evangelion gives way to 3.0+1.0, as seen in parallel moments where Asuka wakes up beside Shinji, but he’s indifferent—perhaps because he has matured.
[I could draw more parallels with The Expanse here, but to spare you spoilers for another compelling sci-fi story, I will refrain from naming two crucial characters from Naomi’s past.]
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Having followed Evangelion for over 20 years, I believe I will still find time to rewatch 3.0+1.0, to glean further insights from this final offering from an old friend, and the trauma it so succinctly depicted, before bidding farewell for good. It is a fortunate circumstance that the world is in a state, or at least a significant portion of it, to appreciate a work like this, where the psychological depth is so overwhelmingly central, leaving us all in a state of suffering, standing at the intersection of Western and Eastern storytelling norms, with no other recourse. The Rebuild series is not identical to the original; rather, it represents a faint glimmer of hope that adults would offer in response to the original. It’s just that by this point, it hardly matters anymore. The very fact that 3.0+1.0 is a work that remains so characteristic of all things Evangelion is already a significant achievement.
