Dearest Rachel –
There’s something particularly recursive about having a dream about putting on a production; in a way, it’s a case of one’s unconscious mind taking one behind the curtain as the dream itself is being assembled. The fact that I was the one in the directors’ chair last night should have suggested nothing more consequential than a school play. However, the settings and subject matter were such that it could hardly have been anything other than a major motion picture.
That’s because we were at NERV headquarters, putting together a play (movie? Seriously, I don’t remember any film crew ever being there, but I also know there was no place for a stage) about the epic saga that was (or, I suppose, since everything was still ongoing, and the characters were still high school kids, is) Neon Genesis Evangelion. I mean, how do you make a giant mecha anime into a high school play? It’s problematic enough to translate these things into live action films (although given that my dream had us onsite where everything happened, with the actual individuals playing themselves, it would at least be faithful to the original events as they happened, you’d expect).
Indeed, while it would probably be an interesting concept in and of itself to create a “the making of” story about Evangelion – between wrangling the robots (to say nothing of the attacking ‘Angels’ themselves), to the budget issues (you’ll recall that the organization in the series, despite being tasked with preventing a global catastrophe, referred to as the ‘Third Impact,’ they had to beg for funding numerous times throughout the series, so you might imagine that a production company trying to recreate the events realistically would have similar issues, if not for a large amount of CGI doing the heavy lifting), to the sheer amount of chaos and destruction wrecking by the battles between mecha and Angel, there would be so many logistical challenges in putting something like this together. The on-set drama alone would have made for a terrific storyline in itself.
And, in fact, that was the main focus of what I was having to deal with last night, as opposed to the sweeping arcs of trying to control a squadron of giant mechs (or worse, their otherworldly opponents, who seemed to have no rhyme or reason to their attack plans that one could understand in order to replicate for a casual viewer’s consumption). For all their status as pilots, saving the world on a regular basis while still theoretically trying to have ‘normal’ teenage lives, our lead characters couldn’t seem to get themselves together in order to play their roles, even as themselves. Shinji, as you might expect, was horribly self-conscious, freezing up every time I called out “Action!” Asuka, by contrast, was a regular prima donna, always trying to steal the scene, whether she supposed to be in it or not; I recall being tempted to just let her overact for an entire day, and let her see all the rushes at the end of the day, and how ridiculous she looked, but I doubted that the realization would dawn upon her, so it would be just a day’s worth of work utterly wasted. And Rei…?
Rei was far and away both the best and most challenging of the three… because she was aware of her own shortcomings. And it was up to me to explain that, in this situation, they weren’t shortcomings at all.
Since the show is now more than a quarter-century old, it seems unnecessary for me to concern myself with the concept of spoilers. I might as well fret that someone would be bothered to learn that Charles Foster Kane’s mysterious last word had to do with his longing to go back to his childhood and play on his old sled, Rosebud. And yet, I feel the need to point out that this is meant to be a shock to the viewer upon first watch; Rei is a clone, one of many (and indeed, her fourteen-year-old self is the second such to be placed into service, her first iteration having been murdered at the age of six) taken from the genetic material of the program director’s wife in an attempt to replicate her (sound familiar?) as well as to pilot the prototype Evangelion. Since her thoughts and memories are uploaded regularly to the collection of her incubating ‘sisters’ (so that she can be replaced at a moment’s notice), she is well aware of her own insignificance, despite also knowing that (at least at first) she is the only one capable of piloting the mecha that is meant to save the world.
Obviously, this leads to an unusual outlook toward life and existence. In her case, she is completely and utterly without outward emotion, having seemingly come to terms with her status as a virtual nonentity. All of which you already know; indeed, there was a time when I gave you the nickname ‘Rei’ in order to disprove your assertion that your name, unlike name, had no shortened form, which you embraced for a while (I stopped calling you that when you pointed out that I would often use it in a moment of frustration or reproof, and you had grown tired of hearing it in that falling tone that indicated my disappointment; but that’s a whole other story).
But underneath her stoic façade, built out of necessity, there is that level of self-awareness that her fellow pilots do not share. Shinji doesn’t realize just how naturally skilled he is, while Asuka, in turn, doesn’t realize (or perhaps refuses to accept) that the world doesn’t revolve around her. But Rei knows that she lacks emotional range; it was what drove the events of the dream. In the actual anime series, none of this is particularly clear; behind the scenes within my dream, however, I was dealing with a girl who was trying to play herself, but clearly struggling with the fact that she didn’t feel as if she could act her way out of a paper bag.
To be fair, she was right; her portrayal was, in fact, stiff and wooden. Of course, that was the whole point. An emotional Rei would have been completely out of character – indeed, just the fact that she was worried about her acting ability in the first place felt a little strange to me. And most of my dream was spent talking to her, and explaining that point; that it was okay for her to be that way, because she had been (and, I guess, still was) that way, as a means of coping with her situation. It was her very situation, her deliberate ‘shutting off’ of herself, that would make her a character for the ages, one that so many emotionally distant viewers could and would relate to.
At the end of our talk (which I could not transcribe for you, even if I tried – because, you know, dreams), she gave me that same small smile that she had given Shinji when he rescued her in the fifth episode, I think it was. It was weird to be the recipient of that, especially since it had come unbidden, rather than from Shinji having asked her to, and I had made no such request. But I guess she felt relieved that she was doing something right, that no one else could, not even any of her clones. I don’t know; I’m probably not supposed to. Dreams aren’t meant to solve problems, by and large, so I’m not about to expect much from this one. But at least it ended with a rare smile, eh?
Anyway, I’ll keep in touch, honey. Until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 