What is the point of remaking Evangelion?

That question hangs over the Rebuilds like a storm cloud. Evangelion the TV show, and its movie conclusion End of Eva, endure as anime staples to this day. It’s a story that’s just as captivating now as when it came out over two decades ago. It doesn’t need a remake to remain relevant; I doubt Eva will ever stop being relevant, at least for a very long time. And say what you want about Hideaki Anno, he’s never been the kind of guy to create art for the sake of cynically milking cash from his audience. So the only reason to remake it is if there’s something more to say. Something that the original show and movie didn’t quite capture, something that Anno desperately needs to contribute to the never-ending conversation he started so long ago. But what IS that something? For what reason does this story need to be told anew? As much as I enjoyed the first two Rebuilds, they don’t really do a good job of answering that question. 1.0 literally just repeats the show shot for shot. 2.0 mostly condenses and remixes stuff that’s already happened, but less good and more needlessly indulgent. We’re halfway through the Rebuilds and we still don’t understand why this movie series even exists. And after 2.0′s barn-burner of a finale, I was hopeful that 3.0 would finally deliver the answers I was waiting for.

Then I watched 3.0.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, You Can (Not) Redo is utterly fucking amazing. It’s a statement of purpose that makes every unanswered question click into place. It’s a staggering work of artistic vision. It’s a statement of purpose like a lightning bolt from hell. It blows everything about the previous two Rebuilds out of the water so effortlessly, it honestly makes them feel worse by comparison. It’s everything I hoped it would be and so, so much more. Whether or not it’s truly on par with the original Evangelion, I don’t know; I guess I’ll have to wait for the final movie to answer that question. But for the first time since I started watching the Rebuilds, I finally feel like this series can match up to the original Evangelion. It can live up to its staggering legacy. Somehow, Anno and his team at Studio Khara have written a new chapter in this franchise’s legacy that genuinely feels like it’s adding to the conversation. And it comes in the form of a movie that’s just as heartwrenching, just as pulse-pounding, just as wretched, and just as beautiful as the tale that’s lead it here.

It’s also a very disorienting movie, which is entirely the point. We cold-open fourteen years after Shinji caused the Third Impact at the end of the last movie, fourteen years that Shinji’s essentially spent in cryosleep as the world has collapsed and struggled back to post-apocalyptic life. When he’s finally wokem up, he finds himself in a world where everything is changed, everything is broken, and barely anything resembles the people and places he left behind. And just as he reels from this staggering information overload, the movie doesn’t slow down to explain anything until around halfway through. The first twenty minutes are nearly non-stop action, showing off the new status quo in a barrage of futuristic technology, breathtaking monster fights, and sweeping apocalyptic landscapes. It’s an absolutely insane rush, tossing both us and Shinji from one jaw-dropping setpiece to the next with barely a moment to catch our breath. At times, it’s so overwhelming that the shock and awe almost becomes numbing. So much technobabble and barely explained high concept fuckery is thrown around that it’s all but impossible to get a read on what’s actually going on between the chaos. You’d think this would be a crippling flaw, but honestly, Evangelion’s plot and lore have always been kind of an incomprehensible clusterfuck, so 3.0′s just carrying on that tradition if anything. And it definitely puts us right in Shinji’s head as he’s assaulted with the innumerable ways that things have changed. “Welcome to the new world,” it seems to say. “Now get up to speed, because we’re not slowing down for you.”

And what a new world it is. The planet is awash in the kind of stunning imagery that would feel right at home in Berserk. Mountains of red bodies, blood dripping from oversized heads, seas burned crimson and teeming with alien life, NERV headquarters reduced to a bombed-out Gothic shell of its former self, and a climactic fight that takes place on an underground mountain of skulls in the shadow of a fossilized titan that dwarfs even the Evas. The grungy realism that defined the show’s aesthetic has been replaced with a majestic, almost Dark Souls-ian portrait of an incomprehensibly primordial universe on the brink of erasing itself from existence. It even makes some genuinely fantastic use of CG during the battles, amping up their scope to mind-numbing extremes. And the cinematography is just as fractured as the world it portrays; at times, the framing, lighting and editing seem to cast the environments as a grand stage upon which actors say their lines. Spotlights shine down on characters without a source. Shaft-esque expressionistic flairs dominate the movie’s conversation-heavy middle chunk. Just like at the show’s end, the fabric of the story itself is beginning to come undone from the shock of what it’s been forced to endure. It hasn’t devolved to the pure abstraction of the final two episodes yet, but the warning signs are all there. Things can’t go on like this much longer. Sooner or later, this world is going to unravel again.

And yet, for all this bleakness and despair, one thing that can’t be denied is that this movie is fucking awesome. It kicks so much ass on so many levels that it’s impossible to keep track of all the amazing moments. I can’t even count how many times it made me shriek with glee as it pulled off yet another Gurren Lagann-worthy setpiece. Evas dueling in the shadow of a god’s withered husk! Evas fighting Angels in space! Captain Katsuragi commanding an army of anti-NERV warriors with unparalleled badassery! AND MOTHER! FUCKING! ASUKA! God, this movie fixes everything wrong with Asuka from the last movie. Every attack she makes, every blow she takes, every Angel she thrashes, every impossible plan she carries out through sheer force of will, all of it left me screaming with joy. It’s like we’re getting to see post-EOE Asuka, the Asuka who conquered her self-loathing and smashed the Eva series to bits, finally get to cut loose and kick some fucking ass. It’s amazing! It’s absolutely fucking amazing! It’s like the past fourteen years turned her into a Gunbuster protagonist! Actually, that’s how all the anti-NERV warriors come off: a colorful cast of misfits stolen from a much more upbeat mecha anime and thrust into a dying world, facing down the post-apocalypse with undying spirit despite the impossible odds. Even though we barely spend any time with them, they feel so lived-in and fleshed out that I could imagine an entire anime series just about them fighting to keep humanity’s flame alive after the Third Impact. It fucking rules.

And Shinji get to enjoy none of it.

Which finally brings me to the point of the whole thing. The reason the Rebuilds had to exist. Why this timeless story was worth continuing. And yes, I do mean “continuing.” Because despite ostensibly being a re-telling, what 3.0 makes clear is that the Rebuilds are true thematic sequels to the original show. They’re not meant to be your first experience with Evangelion; at least, their true impact is lost if you haven’t seen the show already. No, these movies are meant for those who have already been marinating in the NGE stew ever since it first came out and changed anime forever. These movies are for the lost, lonely kids who saw themselves in Shinji whether they wanted to or not. These movies are for the Eva fans who have never been able to stop thinking about it.

These movies are for the Shinjis of the world who never managed to grow up.

Neon Genesis Evangelion came out a full decade before Anno decided to remake it. In that time, those who first watched it as teenagers would grow up into adults. Some of them managed to take Eva’s lessons to heart. They learned to love themselves, to find peace with their demons, to embrace the world no matter how much it scared them to do so. But some of them didn’t. Some of them remained scared and small, a prisoner to their selfishness, their terror, their helplessness. Shinji was able to start the healing process despite all the shit he went through; in real life, not everyone is so lucky. And now, much like Shinji in this movie, those lost kids are faced with an adult world that’s so different from the world they knew, a world where everything is different, everything is broken, everything is a million times harder to deal with... and they’re still fourteen years old, grappling with the same demons that paralyzed them so long ago. Reliving the same memories, making the same mistakes, searching for a way out while stagnating in their comfort zones. And faced with what they can’t understand or accept, all they can do is continue to suffer as they always have.

All they can do... is redo.

None of us will ever destroy the world with our mistakes. None of us will ever be the unwitting key to Armageddon. But there are times when we’ve all felt trapped by our mistakes. There are times when it feels like we’re doomed to keep messing up over and over again, unable to improve or fix what’s broken. Shinji doomed the world to save a single girl, and now he has to face that. He has to face the cruel, unflinching truths of a world he’s ruined, the dark secrets and hidden agendas that brought him to this point. Everyone else has grown up, moved on, created a new world from the wreckage he left behind. But he is still fourteen years old, afraid, grasping for an answer that never comes. The eternal otaku surrogate protagonist has been left behind by time, trapped reliving the same old memories as the people he once cared about become alien and the consequences of his actions grind his soul into dirt. An adult who never got over being a teenager. Who never learned to love himself. Who never figured out how to break the unhealthy cycles he was trapped in. He is fourteen now just as he was fourteen years ago, and unless something changes, he’ll forever remain a child in a world with no more place for him.

Cast in that light, the point behind the first two Rebuilds being what they are becomes abundantly clear. Shinji, just like the audience, is still stuck on Evangelion. He’s stuck reliving the same events, the same memories, searching for meaning without finding the strength to move past it. 1.0 and 2.0 are a comfort zone for Eva fans. They’re familiar. They’re unchallenging. 2.0 in particular is more indulgent and coddling, with its simplified dialogue and aggressive fanservice. They’re what it feels like to be frozen in time, relearning the same lessons without ever moving forward. And then in comes 3.0, shattering that comfort zone to pieces and exposing the audience to the sudden, cruel reality they’ve been hiding from. It forces them to confront the passage of time, their alienation from the world, the fact they’ve just been making the same mistakes over and over again. It forces them to realize that just like Shinji, they never managed to grow up. The comforting illusion those first two movies created was nothing more than the fear of change made manifest. But as much as some may wish to live in the world of 1.0 and 2.0, it’s the world of 3.0 they must have to face. The world where nothing makes sense, where nothing is fair, where your flaws are laid bare and there’s nowhere to run, where time moves forward whether you’re moving with it or not. It’s a final wake-up call to those who are still Shinji to this day, asking them once again... to try.

Which brings me, at last, to Kaworu.

Kaworu was one of the weirdest parts of the original show. He appears out of nowhere in one of the last episodes, has an entire love story with Shinji, and then dies like Jesus for the otaku hero’s sins, all in the space of 26 incredibly esoteric minutes. He wasn’t so much a character as he was a mangled plot device who barely worked as part of the story, even as the thematic point he represented was essential to the show’s overall message. But in 3.0, at last, we see Kaworu as he was meant to be. A fully realized character full of stirring emotion, a loving bond built up with Shinji naturally over beautiful moments of connection, and an ultimate sacrifice that ripped my heart out of my fucking chest. This is the tragic beauty that this character was always meant to represent, finally unfettered by production hell and painted in vivid color. Kaworu Nagisa made me laugh. He made me cry. He made me believe in his love for Shinji ten thousand times more than the original show ever managed. Seriously, that piano duet scene was so unspeakably beautiful, I don’t know how I survived.

And it’s in this scene that Kaworu once again becomes the thematic lynchpin tying everything together. Because his message to Shinji is the message of these Rebuilds: keep trying. Practice the same thing over and over until you get it right, and then move on to even better things. Don’t give up because it seems hard or impossible. Don’t give up because you think it’ll never work. Keep trying. Keep fighting. Even when tragedy strikes, hold onto hope. Because even if you can’t redo the past, you can redo how you approach the future. No mistake is unforgivable, no failure unfixable, no cycle so broken that you can never escape it.

All it takes is the courage to stare the end of the world in the face and say: “Fuck it, I’m going to try again.”

Evangelion 3.0 is a stunning achievement. As pure cinema, it’s a triumph. As a continuation of Evangelion, it’s a masterpiece. As a message for all the Shinjis of the world who remain trapped by their worst impulses, it’s damn near spiritual. I have no idea how the final movie is going to wrap things up, what conclusion it will ultimately arrive at. The only reason I'm not giving this one a perfect 100 is because I'm still waiting for the true finale to see if this whole experiment can truly measure up to the original NGE. But after the heights this one reached, I have full confidence that it’s gonna stick the landing. One way or another, Evangelion is going to end again. And this time, maybe we can finally break free of despair and let it carry us through hell into a brighter future.