Having most recently tasked our heroes with mastering Dance Dance Revolution in order to defeat an angel in a dance-off, followed by wrestling in a volcano while wearing a fat suit, it should be clear at this point that Evangelion’s reputation as a grim and self-serious production is perhaps a touch overstated. While we’ve already run through episodes that grapple frankly with topics like social isolation, anxiety, and depression, the arrival of Asuka has heralded our entrance into the middle act of Neon Genesis Evangelion, where it most closely resembles a conventional episodic giant robot show. Shinji has gained friends and allies, the full NERV team has been established, and the stage is properly set for a menagerie of bizarre angels to attack NERV. But all of that is not to say that this stretch of episodes is lacking in aesthetic craft or distinctive personality – on the contrary, episode eleven’s pacing and directorial style offer one of the most clearly defined and energetic personalities of the show so far.

Storyboarded by Masayuki Yamaguchi, a close Anno collaborator who’s stuck with him all the way from Gunbuster through Rebuild 3.0, episode eleven opens on an upward-aiming shot of Tokyo-3’s crisscrossing power lines. Power and telephone lines are a common symbol in anime, simultaneously gesturing towards connection and alienation. They reflect how we are all simultaneously linked by technology and separated by walls, housed within shells connected through impersonal electric cables. Here in Evangelion, these power lines are a subtle piece of visual foreshadowing, emphasizing how Tokyo-3’s continued operation is entirely dependent on its electrical grid. But here at the start of the episode, they more directly convey a sense of domestic normalcy, a sensation that’s bolstered as we hone in on the NERV bridge crew resignedly doing their laundry.

It’s an unusually subdued opening beat for an Evangelion episode, and sets the pace for an episode that will generally strive for a lighter, almost mundane tone and a persistent sense of ironic wit. Ritsuko’s group bumping into Fuyutsuki on the train continues the elaboration of this new tone, as Fuyutsuki explains how their city’s government is actually just run by the same three computers that run NERV’s own calculations, the Magi. “The people in charge believe they know what is best, but they’re putting on as much of a brave face as anyone” is a theme that will reappear throughout Evangelion. Here though, it mostly serves for a quick punchline, as Fuyutsuki wryly states that their three robot system is “properly in line with the fundamentals of democracy.” Witty dialogue is quickly followed by equally tongue-in-cheek visual comedy, as Fuyutsuki asks about Ritsuko’s upcoming Eva test, responds with a mild “I’m looking forward to good news,” and has his expectations immediately disappointed through a smash cut to that blaring EMERGENCY warning.

Snappy, irreverent scene transitions and punchy visual comedy are rampant throughout this unusually farcical episode. Misato’s introduction offers another great example, as Kaji’s flustered shout to hold the elevator runs into her beautifully deadpan attempt to close the door. Like with that emergency warning gag, this joke’s strength relies heavily on its quick timing and the use of visual beats as punchlines. Much of the humor comes from the contrast between Kaji’s panicked voice, Misato’s total lack of facial response, and the smooth pan of her hand up to the “close doors” button. Anime comedy often leans towards the farcical and overstated, but this episode’s consistent sense of humor demonstrate that understatement and wry wit can often land with a great deal more impact than the blatantly ridiculous.

With Ritsuko, Fuyutsuki, and Misato’s situations established, the episode finally sets up its last perspective character – our poor pilot Shinji. In a sequence that echoes his first attempt to enter his father’s world, Shinji informs Gendo of a coming teacher-parent conference, only to be told “I’ve delegated all such things to Captain Katsuragi. Don’t call me over such nonsense.” Gendo is as cold as ever, but our next return to Shinji offers some hope, as his incidental conversations with Asuka reveal he actually told his fellow pilots about their conversation. Asuka’s reply is the characteristically unhelpful “be a man!”, but the fact that he mentioned his conversation with Gendo at all implies that at this point, Asuka is a genuine friend, albeit a particularly grouchy one.

And then everything shuts down. With Misato and Kaji stuck on an elevator, the pilots still out on the streets, and only the scientific and executive teams actually within NERV’s central facilities, the organization’s power cuts out entirely, leaving all our heroes both literally and figuratively in the dark. The totality of this predicament is conveyed through more funny cuts, as Kaji’s “do you think Akagi screwed something up?” is met with a genuine cut to Ritsuko saying “it wasn’t me.” And at last, the reason for this episode’s ensemble opening act and consistent rapid cuts becomes clear – with the power out, the mere act of actually trying to meet up with your coworkers becomes a Herculean, perhaps even impossible task.

More visual gags abound as our heroes all deal with this struggle in their own way, from the slow-cooking deadpan of each of the Eva pilots in turn being baffled by an unworking card scanner, to the visual setup-punchline of Ritsuko’s team forcing a door open only for her to lightly step over their bodies. Meanwhile, the episode is given a sense of cohesiveness and forward momentum in spite of its scattered individual conflicts by distributing the cascading realizations and ongoing discussion of the crisis across the entire cast, with each sub-scene naturally leading into the next.

Kaji raises a key question, and then we cut to Gendo answering it in a different location entirely. Ritsuko’s high-level strategizing is balanced by the pilots’ practical discussions, as they muddle their way through the infrastructure she’s actively discussing. A proposal to “get in contact with NERV” is immediately answered in each narrative at once, as we run through three characters in three locations each failing to get a phone signal. An episode that could easily feel disjointed or unexciting is thus given a strong sense of momentum and coherent narrative structure largely through shot transitions, as our characters each contribute to a conflict that’s actually playing out across half a dozen separate locations. It’s a style of dynamic visual storytelling that Anno would return to for his recent Shin Godzilla, a film that also shares this episode’s dry wit, critique of power, and general skepticism of organizational efficiency.

While the episode’s overall momentum and energy are maintained through this clever method of ensemble storytelling, individual scenes are elevated through ever more great incidental gags. Asuka getting mad at Rei’s deadpan competency even when we can barely make out her expressions, and then later just contributing her spread-legged power stance as she directs Shinji’s physical labor. Bridge technician Hyuga requisitioning a civil candidate’s campaign vehicle, a gag made double funny by the recent reveal that none of this city’s politicians actually do anything. Ritsuko and Maya marveling at the stoicism of their leaders, leading into the absurd explanation for that stoic look. And perhaps my favorite gag, Asuka’s proud declaration that “here we are!” leading into her almost getting stepped on by an Angel, ending on her subordinates’ profoundly unimpressed reactions. It’s rare that Rei gets to demonstrate all that much personality, but when forced to engage with Asuka in a closed metal space for an extended period of time, her chosen aura of emotional distance reveals welcome notes of pride, philosophical inquisitiveness, and even a deadpan sense of humor.

With the bridge team mostly focused on the mechanical challenges of manually preparing for an angel attack, the relationship between our three pilots forms the emotional crux of this episode. Asuka and Rei have been at odds ever since they met, but this episode provides the fullest illustration yet of precisely why their personalities are so incompatible. Asuka is all about pride and dominance – she doesn’t just want to be the best, she wants to prove she’s the best through glorious, adversarial confrontation. Shinji finds those qualities alternately inspiring and terrifying, but either way, he’s always willing to cede ground in order to placate her ego. In contrast, while Rei won’t rise to her bait and compete with her in the way she wants, she also refuses to back down, instead generally treating Asuka as beneath her contempt. And this icy attitude infuriates Asuka in turn, who interprets Rei’s actions as self-righteousness (and isn’t necessarily wrong to do so).

And yet, for all their immaturity and bickering, these three young pilots manage to arrive at headquarters just as their Evangelions are being prepped for service. Though their self-destructive lack of teamwork is emphasized through one more great visual gag, their prompt arrival serves as a validation of the faith that prompted Gendo to prep for combat even with zero pilots on hand. Gendo’s actions serve as the thematic dovetail of his refusal to attend Shinji’s parent-teacher meetings, as if to say “I will never be a traditional father to you, but I also would never have chosen you as a pilot if I didn’t think you could succeed.” Ritsuko and the show itself frame this revelation as a happy ending; but Ritsuko has her own reasons for seeing compassion in Gendo’s cold actions, and a proud boss is no substitute for a father’s love.

Fortunately, while Gendo may never grow into a loving father, Shinji’s closer allies are far more capable of self-assessment and genuine growth. After spending most of this episode ordering Shinji around and attempting to provoke Rei, Asuka shows that even if she can’t outright admit fault, she’s willing to demonstrate contrition and loyalty when it truly matters. Though her earlier plans as self-declared group leader mostly just served to feed her ego, Asuka’s plan to defeat this angel demands not just strong teamwork, but a willingness to sacrifice both glory and safety for the sake of the team. While Rei recovers their weapon and Shinji fires the crucial shot, Asuka assigns herself the role of human shield, taking both the least glamorous and most dangerous role for herself. There is nothing more fundamental to Asuka’s self-image than her pride as an Eva pilot, and through her choices here, Asuka reveals that even as she bickers about their personalities, Shinji and Rei have earned her respect on the one field that truly matters.

The episode concludes on a quiet celebration of that respect, as our three pilots reflect on their journey on the hills above Tokyo-3. Their attitudes towards the blackout reflect each of their personalities in turn; Shinji opening with the introverted “it’s ironic that the stars are so beautiful without any artificial lights,” Asuka countering with the validation-minded “but without those lights, it doesn’t feel like anyone lives there,” and Rei putting their debate in cool philosophical terms with the summarizing “man has always feared the darkness, carving away at it with fire.” They’re not in sync, and they probably never will be. But you don’t have to know the full contours of a person’s heart to trust them to have your back, or to sit with them and admire the stars.

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