So, I've just finished putting down my impressions about the film:
Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo
The Rebuild series has been experiencing something of an identity crisis from the very beginning.
This was supposed to be a “re-imagining” rather than a “re-telling”, so it’s understandable that one may be a little confused by how erratic this presentation has been.
You Are (Not) Alone began being respectable of its source, even if it was a little too slavish with that material.
You Can (Not) Advance seemed a little more sure-footed, striking a more palatable blend between old and new.
You Can (Not) Redo, however, seems intent to continue the trend, by being completely unpredictable.
Still, though my feelings on the Rebuild franchise are very much a mixed bag, I’d be lying if I said that the previous film hadn’t piqued my interest. How it ended certainly left a measure of anticipation behind, having promised something a little different this time around. Well that is indeed the case; the only problem being that “something” is sure to polarize.
You Can (Not) Redo doesn’t seem to care what has gone before it, as it hurtles itself into a scenario all of its own design. In a way, it’s refreshing to see such a bold move, particularly as that was part of what we were being sold on from the beginning. So, it’s a little unfortunate that what with end up with, just isn’t that good. Both novel and maddening in equal measure, for everyone one thing it does right, it seemingly has several glaring problems to counter with.
The 14 year leap in time, is the both the films biggest weakness, as well as its biggest strength. This new unfamiliarity is still all about framing Shinji’s personal journey, though it allows us to see it in a unique light. Make no mistake; this is the same ineffectual Shinji that we’ve always known, leaving those around him (and the world itself) to have undergone the most radical transformations. The premise ostensibly allows the same character to be transplanted into a new world, and adds a new slant on Shinji’s descent. The series was more about trying to prevent and learn from the mistakes of the past, whereas here, Shinji is exposed to living through those transgressions. Is he truly capable of forging his own path? Or he is destined to repeat the same mistakes? It forms the basis of an interesting notion, and feeds into what is probably where much of the fan interest lies, namely his relationship with Kaworu.
It could be said that the earlier installments fostered a belief (at least in the audience) that things would be influenced by a slightly different set of emotions this time around. In that regard, perhaps it was something of a deliberate ploy to have had 2.0 allude to glimmers of a happier tale - because
3.0 is very much in an altogether more sombre affair. The fact that it chooses to focus on Kaworu, a character who what had previously been neglected, supports this. So it’s strange that a lot this is reliant on the audience already being aware on his presence within the franchise, particularly the implications of his continued existence. This in itself turns the act of watching his burgeoning friendship with Shinji, into something quite morbid.
I found it to be quite appealing, in that it evoked the same melancholy that was found towards the end of the
Neon Genesis Evangelion. You begin to get a good sense that things are going to go awry, and it’s that curiosity that compels you to watch. But this is seemingly the only plot thread that the film seems concerned with. It dedicates much of itself trying to fashion a direct route towards its ending, rather than bothering itself with those details in-between.
The brevity of the story-telling is nothing new, but the effects of which are extremely apparent here. It all feels stilted, and much more generic than its predecessors. The situation dictates that everyone has changed, but we are never privy to this. Apart from the confounding introduction, which re-introduces a host of familiar faces - as well as couple of new ones, we are never given anything much in the way of momentum. In fact, one could be so cynical as to say that the plot is book-ended on either side of the credits. Though, the case could be made that Evangelion is about its characters anyway, and that time could be better spent with its cast.
Much of the time is spent with the aforementioned Shinji, Kaworu dynamic. It certainly feels much more natural here, with their bond given time to mature. And it’s easier to accept how much this resonates with Shinji, because the film at least does convey the true extent of his abandonment - with the whole world literally (and figuratively) against him. In the past, Shinji never lent himself to being the most likeable of protagonists, but you generally did come to understand how he come to such decisions, even if you may not have necessarily agreed with them. Here, he is funneled into a logical conclusion, because the world around him simply will not cooperate with him. It’s much less a case of him failing to understand the world, than it is, the world failing to understand him. This in itself could be an interesting notion to explore, were it not born out of these shallow circumstances.
Kaworu himself is much easier to interpret here, with the time affording his actions not to feel as though they are solely the work of a manipulative, monologuing, individual. He represents the hope of something new, which of course makes it all the more tragic, when we know the fate that awaits him.If the films main goal was to avoid this relationship feeling contrived, then it certainly achieved that.
However, there was a slight surprise in Asuka’s portrayal. Truth be told, she doesn’t appear all that much, but her interactions do display a slight wrinkle in her personality, she’s matured. No matter how pained the explanation behind her stilted-aging is, Asuka is ostensibly much older that we have been accustomed to. As such, it creates a fresh dichotomy between her and Shinji, one you suspect is no longer tinged with those romantic overtures. It’s frustrating that this aspect of the story doesn’t get more room to breathe, because her annoyance with Shinji is both justified and vindicated. But at the same time, he hasn’t had the same time to come to terms with just about…well, everything. In fact, it is only in the closing moments, do we see a hint of where this might lead. But considering how fast and loose this entry plays with the promises of its predecessors, I wouldn’t exactly pin my hopes on it.
The trajectory of Misato is tragic. She has gone from what is possibly the most grounded character portrayal in the entire series, to an archetype. She had previously been someone who was fully aware of their own failings, but puts them aside anyway, in an effort to support those around her. 3.0 burdens her with an unconvincing scowl, and the despondent tsundere routine to go alongside it. Though without the prerequisite time, her portrayal feels horribly trite. She acts illogically in a broken world. Mari exists within a different anime entirely. It’s extremely dumb.
Mari continues to be blight this franchise, as everything she does seems to be contrary to what is actually unfolding. Still seemingly at a pains to differentiate her, Mari’s various affectations only serve to annoy - from her obnoxious singing, to the joviality by which she treats almost everything that occurs. She an empathic failure, one who only serves to drag down every scene in which she features. I’m still kind of amazed she even exists. To think, that long-established characters are already feeling the constraints of a feature, and we are continually burdened with this new addition. It just makes me lament that they have been rendered into these one-note renditions, all the while, Mari has screen-time. As of the end of this film, I feel assured in giving up any hope of her being redeemable. Even if she was to have a pivotal role in this upcoming finale, will anybody actually care?
Rei served as the biggest disappointment to me, because as I noted in my impressions on You can (not) advance, she signaled the prospect of elements taking a wildly different approach in future installments. And even though that came to past, it did so without Rei, who was ostensibly reverted back to type, come the beginning of this feature. I am of course talking about her being “saved” at the end of the previous film, which seemed to indicate that we’d be remaining with the second Rei, which is to say the “original”, at least as far as the audience is concerned. She was a less a character, and more of an embodiment of a state of mind, serving as a exploration of how we engage with our identity, and how it ultimately shapes us. As you can expect, I was quite excited to see that suppressed personality finally given the chance to flourish. Particularly as we were always offered small glimpses of her latent humanity.
Conceptually,
You can (not) Redo gets this right, in that it grants its characters the opportunity to be removed from their familiar workings. Yet, within the caveats of this particular tale, we rarely afforded the chance to spend time with them, or at least understand them. In fact, to use “characters” here would be a misnomer, because they anything but - largely existing as avatars used to drive the plot. No one simply withholds information here because they feel the need to, rather, they do so because that’s how they written, badly. For all intents and purposes, Shinji acts as our eyes, he knows nothing, just as we do. Yet, even as an inactive participant, it should quickly become clear that the surrounding world is apparently unable to carry out cognitive reasoning. From the very beginning, he continually asks questions, only to have everyone withhold the answers from him. If his role within this new world is so precarious, then why is no one trying to cajole him towards their cause? Even if the likes of Misato want to keep him at arm’s length, it would surely be in best interests to educate him. Instead, Shinji simply stumbles into each predicament because he knows no better. Likewise, Kaworu, whose relationship with Shinji is probably the crux of this entire movie, tells him nothing of any real-consequence. Even as part of some Machiavellian plot by Gendo, it all falls into place a little too conveniently.
This is the sort of indecision that permeates throughout, with no one able to truly deliver the answers. But then again, that just may be a failing on the part of the script, rather than something that was considered. The entire narrative runs on misdirection, something which isn’t conveyed through subtle foreshadowing or character machinations, but simply idiocy. It’d be naive to think that this posturing is the result of a deft touch, and not the result of bad storytelling. The lack of communication is simply staggering, and it doesn’t take much consideration to realize the central conflict could be circumvented by a simpe line or two. It breaks the immersion somewhat, when a character like Misato, someone who had previously been vehemently supportive of Shinji, is now a complete inverse of what she once was. It’s indicative of a real lack of cohesion in general, and if the poor characterization doesn’t deter, the silliness will.
It doesn’t feel like the same story told differently, much less than it does, a bad story told using familiar faces. The passage of time ultimately feels like a gimmick, because beyond the initial shock of the opening, it is clearly a crutch by which to elicit cheap drama. What starts off as something fairly novel, instead subverts itself by becoming largely dull. This manifests most prominently in the actions scenes. It’s not just the fact that these divorce us from any sort of meaningful character development, but that these scenes, even in isolation, just aren’t all that entertaining. But perhaps this is where the film is most divisive, because the film does make liberal use of CG. With the quotient having crept up between installments, Though I am of the opinion that it leaves us with confusing, not to mention, ugly, action scenes. There is no visible restraint being exercised here, and it’s hard to feel anything other than bemusement, especially when a hundred different things are being thrown across the screen at once. I can see how the frenetic energy afforded by this will please some, but it just doesn’t mesh comfortably in most cases.
It highlights the interesting dichotomy of
3.0, whereby the action (and the plot) is in service of itself, rather than the characters. These are the moments that I want to see things, feel things, none of which the film seems concerned with. These particular crescendos are never going to resonate if we never have reason to feel any sort of empathy, and we rarely do. This should be evident by how plainly they explain away several longstanding mysteries. It’s difficult to feel as though there is anything left to conjecture, because
You Can (Not) Redo seems content to simply lay out its motive to bear. The execution is sloppy.
If they intended to exercise such reckless abandon within their narrative, then it begs to question, as to why they waited so long to break from the status-quo.
Ambivalence would be how I ultimately describe my feelings about
3.0, because I don’t consider it good, yet it’d be hard to be completely disparaging about it, when it actually strikes out at something different. Though as a self-contained feature, it’s unequivocally a failure. The narrative is so muddled, and so reliant on the audience already being privy to the minutiae of the lore, that it’d be incomprehensible for a newcomer. And it’s by that same token, that I imagine many longstanding fans of the franchise will feel aggrieved with the developments presented here. Say what you will about the previous Rebuild films, but they at least felt more suited to the Evangelion name. This feels as though it could be an amalgamation of any number of franchises.
Summary: If the finished product was meant as a clever subversion from what was alluded to in the initial preview at the end of
You Can (Not) Advance, then I’m frankly unimpressed. It feels like a contemptible ploy. As its own imaginings,
You Can (Not) Redo is a fairly interesting piece, but as an actual part of the Evangelion mythos, it is putrid.