Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 (2021): How Shinji Finally Found His “Princess Mononoke”

For decades, the Evangelion franchise trapped its characters—and its audience—in a suffocating cycle of trauma and despair. But in 2021, director Hideaki Anno finally broke the loop with Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time (Official). To truly understand how this cinematic miracle was achieved, we have to look at an unexpected parallel: Hayao Miyazaki’s 1997 masterpiece, Princess Mononoke (Studio Ghibli Official).

*This is a translated version. The original (Japanese) is available here.

Today, we are going to explore the compelling theory that Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 is the exact emotional destination that Princess Mononoke reached over two decades ago.

If you want to dive deeper into their early thematic overlaps, check out our previous exploration of the two masterpieces:

Since nearly a year has passed since Thrice Upon a Time hit theaters, the time is ripe to dissect the profound connection between these two legendary works. Be warned: the following analysis contains heavy spoilers for both films.

Need a refresher on the plot? Read our complete ending analysis and story breakdown for Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 before proceeding.

*This is a translated version. The original (Japanese) is available here.

The Core Connection: A Sanctuary for the Broken

At first glance, biological mechs and forest gods seem worlds apart. However, the beating heart of both narratives is the profound suffering of their characters, starting with our protagonist, Shinji Ikari.

NERV: A Hideout from Emotional Trauma

Growing up starved of parental affection, Shinji constantly struggled to validate his own existence. When he finally reunites with his estranged father, Gendo, he doesn’t receive an apology or a warm embrace. Instead, he gets a notoriously cold, borderline-sociopathic command: “Get in the Eva.”

The dysfunction doesn’t stop with Gendo. The adults at NERV—starting with Misato Katsuragi—are all drowning in their own trauma. They lack the emotional bandwidth to process the horrifying ethical implications of sending a 14-year-old boy to the front lines. By throwing themselves into a desperate war against the Angels, the NERV staff effectively avoid confronting their inner demons. Survival leaves no room for therapy.

In many ways, NERV isn’t just a military organization; it is an asylum for the emotionally shattered.

Irontown: Finding Purpose in the Pain

Similarly, Ashitaka in Princess Mononoke is forced into a devastating predicament.

After bravely defeating a demon to protect his village, Ashitaka is rewarded with a lethal curse and immediate exile. Following his people’s strict laws, the hero is banished to wander the west in search of a cure he knows might not exist.

His aimless journey eventually leads him to Irontown. The citizens there—lepers, former sex workers, and outcasts—are people who simply cannot survive anywhere else. Much like the staff at NERV, they carry deep emotional scars. Yet, the grueling labor of ironmaking provides them with a distraction from their bleak reality. For them, this harsh, proactive suffering is their version of fighting Angels.

The Turning Point: The Presence of a “Gospel”

While both stories excel at depicting broken people, they historically diverged drastically in their approach to healing. In the Evangelion universe, pain breeds toxicity. Shinji and his peers constantly lash out, weaponizing their insecurities against each other.

Conversely, the people of Princess Mononoke choose empathy. Despite Lady Eboshi’s ruthlessness in war, the citizens of Irontown hide their suffering and offer warm smiles to strangers like Ashitaka.

But the most critical difference is this: While Ashitaka found his salvation in San, Shinji spent decades wandering without ever meeting his equivalent “San.”

The Salvation of Mononoke: San as Ashitaka’s Beacon

Compared to the nihilistic bloodbath of The End of Evangelion, Princess Mononoke always possessed a beacon of hope: San.

Neither film offers a perfect, utopian solution to the world’s problems. The 1990s were an era of immense societal anxiety in Japan, and both directors reflected that reality. However, Ashitaka’s journey takes a vital turn when he meets the Wolf Girl.

Even after realizing the Great Forest Spirit cannot cure his curse, Ashitaka doesn’t succumb to despair. He accepts his fate and dedicates his remaining time to protecting San and building a bridge between humanity and nature. Though his curse lingers faintly—symbolizing society’s unsolvable systemic issues—San’s existence gives his life profound meaning.

The Despair of Old Evangelion: A Hopeless Dead End

Why did it take fans 25 years to “graduate” from Evangelion? Because The End of Evangelion was famously, viscerally devoid of hope.

By the end of that movie, the lore was mostly explained, but the emotional payoff was a gut punch. After rejecting the Human Instrumentality Project to embrace the pain of reality, Shinji awakens on a blood-red beach, strangles Asuka, and is met with her iconic, disdainful final word: “Disgusting.”

Because we view this franchise through Shinji’s eyes, ending on such an abrasive note offered zero catharsis. Shinji tried so hard, yet he was rewarded with nothing but trauma. This cycle of punishment continued straight through Evangelion: 3.0, where Shinji once again sets off into a wasteland with no destination, echoing Ashitaka’s cursed exile—but completely alone.

Evangelion: 3.0+1.0’s True Meaning: Mari Makinami as Shinji’s “San”

For years, Evangelion refused to offer its protagonist a lifeline. But in Thrice Upon a Time, the universe finally provided a gospel: Mari Makinami Illustrious.

Many fans were initially baffled by Mari’s chaotic introduction in the Rebuild series. She felt disjointed from the core cast. But in hindsight, it’s brilliant. To break a closed time loop, you need an anomaly.

If we view the franchise through the lens of Ghibli, it becomes painfully clear: Mari is Shinji’s “San.”

Just as San was an unprecedented external force that brought meaning to Ashitaka’s exile, Mari was the foreign element required to pull Shinji out of his meta-narrative purgatory. Without her, he would have repeated his tragic mistakes infinitely.

The breathtaking final sequence—where the animation shifts to live-action and Shinji runs hand-in-hand with Mari through a real-world train station—is the exact moment Shinji chooses to run toward a new, unscripted future. It doesn’t mean their lives will be perfect. But for the first time, they are moving forward together.

Village-3: Rebuilding Irontown in the Eva Universe

While the character parallels are striking, the environmental parallel is just as vital. “Village-3” is the spiritual successor to Tokyo-3, and undeniably, it is Evangelion‘s version of Irontown.

The old NERV crew were trapped by their own egos, entirely incapable of nurturing others. Conversely, the survivors of Village-3 are incredibly grounded. Despite living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland—a nightmare directly caused by Shinji’s actions—they don’t harbor bitter resentment. They farm, they build, and they show immense grace to the boy who broke the world.

Just like the lepers working the bellows in Irontown, the residents of Village-3 carry deep grief but choose to smile. Witnessing this profound human resilience is the exact catalyst Shinji needs to rebuild his own shattered psyche.

The Creator’s Evolution: How Marriage Saved Evangelion

This brings us to the ultimate meta-question: Why did Hideaki Anno finally allow Shinji to meet his “Mari”?

The most logical answer points directly to the director’s own life: his marriage to manga artist Moyoco Anno.

In the late 90s, both Miyazaki and Anno were capturing the same societal malaise. However, Miyazaki—a seasoned creator with a family—had the emotional stability to declare, “Even in this dark world, San exists!”

Anno, at that time, did not have that anchor. His intense struggles with depression famously bled into the bleak finale of The End of Evangelion. But over the ensuing decades, Anno found a lifelong partner. By experiencing the grounding, transformative power of marriage, Anno was finally able to write an external savior into his magnum opus.

While we can only theorize about Anno’s private thoughts, the parallels between his real-life wife and Mari Makinami are impossible to ignore.

Bonus Theory: The Real Reason Megumi Ogata Didn’t Voice Adult Shinji

When analyzing the masterpiece that is Thrice Upon a Time, we must address the elephant in the recording booth: Shinji’s voice actor in the final live-action sequence transitions to Ryunosuke Kamiki.

From a directorial standpoint, it is a brilliant move. It shatters the fourth wall, definitively telling the audience, “The boy has grown up. The anime is over.”

But how did Megumi Ogata—the soul of Shinji Ikari for 25 years—feel about passing the baton at the very finish line?

If you watch the behind-the-scenes documentaries and read her interviews, it’s clear she harbored complex, somewhat unresolved emotions about this choice.

Shin Eva Megumi Ogata, the “Pain” of Continuing to Play the 14-Year-Old Shinji Ikari Role That “Has Not Ended”, in Japanese

Yet, Ogata’s crowning moment remains the iconic line, “Goodbye, all of Evangelion.”

While Kamiki speaks the final words of the film, Ogata’s farewell is the true emotional climax. If we consider that the story of Neon Genesis Evangelion strictly ends the moment the Eva units vanish, then Ogata’s line is the definitive conclusion of the franchise.

The world Shinji steps into afterward is no longer Evangelion; it is our reality. Therefore, having Ogata voice a Shinji who no longer bears the weight of an Eva might have actually contradicted the narrative’s purpose.

For millions of fans, the journey began with Ogata’s voice, and spiritually, it ended with her voice.

P.S.

From the perspective of anyone other than Hideaki Anno, the cast and fans didn’t just “say goodbye”—we were actively made to say goodbye. This lingering sense of forced, albeit necessary, closure likely contributed to the bittersweet atmosphere surrounding the finale.

If you enjoyed this cross-franchise breakdown, don’t miss our deep dive into Asuka’s complex psychology, using Moro and Okkoto from Princess Mononoke as analytical guides: