Ambivalence: Why Toji Suzuhara Had to Die

Toji Suzuhara exists in a bizarre space within Neon Genesis Evangelion. He’s far too practical and mature for the world he lives in: his strength, physical and mental, counterbalanced by an emotional tenderness uncharacteristic of his brawny archetype. In his introductory episode, his defining act is the meditated decision to bash Shinji in the face; his final act, by contrast, is to reach out and make amends after understanding the pressure that fueled both boys’ trauma. His macho, patriarchal perspective is laughably misogynistic when it isn’t admirably protective, but I suppose that’s unsurprising, considering his name and features come from Ryu Murakami’s Fascism of Fantasy and Love, a novel about toppling a government by destroying a father figure (sound familiar?).

Toji is in many ways the reason Shinji embarks on his hero’s journey in the first place; the reason he matured for Rei and stood up to Asuka, and the reason he stayed in Tokyo-3 and learned to see Misato as family. When you look closely, he’s arguably the most integral male role model of Shinji’s life.

Which is probably why he needed to die.

Intro

The rest of Evangelion’s fourth Act is bizarre as Toji, as it functions not only as a four-parter conclusion to many of the new psychological ideas Episode 16 put forth, but also as a mirrored replica of Act I, taking the very foundational rules and relationships of the series and breaking them down into basic form: genre deconstruction at its most explicit.

Episode 16 was a notable departure from what most of Evangelion had been up to that point, but not a complete turnaround compared to the violence and nuance we saw as early as our opening chapter. Regardless of how you diagram this series, it’s a critical pivot point, a headfirst dive into psychological and atypical narrative elements that will for the most part define the remainder of this series.

The Splitting of the Breast sought to sunder Shinji’s binary thinking, exposing him as an individual; the rest of the act is a further deconstruction of him through the exploration of our supporting cast. And which cast member better to mirror our protagonist than the very enemy-turned-ally who was the first to seed his evolution? And thus we return to Toji Suzuhara: the Fourth to be Qualified.

Episode 17: The Fourth to be Qualified

Our first shot, a static, cold-open of Misato during a SEELE interrogation, lasts over a minute, no music and no cuts, designed to plunge the viewer once again in media res. Here, a few tricks are played plot wise, as Misato insists Shinji is unable to answer questions at this time, even though we saw in the hospital he was perfectly able bodied and of sound mind. This is likely an empathetic move of Misato’s to keep Shinji from having to relive Leliel’s encounter, but it might also be a strategic ploy to expose herself to more of NERV and SEELE’s upper command, given that she’s fully in league with Kaji now to uncover both organizations’ secrets.

SEELE and Gendo confirm they’re aware of Leliel’s unnatural introspective nature, and prepare for the “predicted” 13^th Angel, at which point we get our first title, “The Fourth to be Qualified,” and the proceeding shot focused squarely on Toji Suzuhara.

Editing, of course, is the art of implication, and we’ve seen silent answers to outright questions before, notably in Episode 8 with the Adam embryo. What I find most interesting with the handling of Toji’s double identity is that until Shinji himself uncovers the truth, the show never confirms anything outright, leaving the audience on the precipice of both worlds. Are we to believe the editing and subtext, that he’s the Fourth Children? Or trust the script, which says nothing of the sort? Either way, these little not-so-subtle hints build the suspense of the reveal, because it doesn’t matter if the audience knows who Toji is: what matters is when Shinji does.

The nurses’ voiceover as Toji visits the hospital is a quick reminder of Suzuhara’s inherent involvement with the Evangelions, how he’s already entangled in all this by way of his sister’s accident. Before he even pilots one, the Evas have already cost him, and his trauma and compassion are highlighted here.

Anyway, we lose well over four people in an Eva test in Nevada—don’t worry, Las Vegas is safe—and get another mention of an S2 Drive. This is the “restored” drive, the one salvaged from Shamshel’s corpse in Episode 5. The cause of NERV-02’s vanishing is postulated to be another Dirac’s Sea, and it’s another reminder that tampering with the unknown—especially Angel guts—is always a sure way to get unintended consequences.

Eva Unit-03 exists, and another mention of Rei’s dummy plug finally reveals a physical machine and foreshadows its eventual use later this chapter. Can’t help but notice that Ritsuko and Gendo are looking the other way than their last meeting before Unit-01, possibly indicating the insidious nature of the dummy plug which shouldn’t even be on the same side of the screen as an Eva, never mind within one.

Unit-03 is gonna need testing, which means another pilot needs to be selected, and we’re told by Ritsuko there’s one candidate whose core can be prepped immediately, which is very convenient, given that there’s…uh…wait a minute…

An Evangelion’s core houses the vital organs of the construct and the soul of the pilot’s mother, and since specifically Toji’s corresponding core is ready to go…that insinuates there’s a storage warehouse somewhere with spare Evangelion cores pre-loaded with the souls of children’s mothers ready to be inserted and bound to Evangelions. NERV is stockpiling human souls for Eva activation.

Which is fantastic, because I just recently got over my fear of orange juice and was looking for new nightmare fuel. Thank you, Gainax.

Anyway, Rei is also present, within her incubator, which now clearly resembles a human brain with her at the stem: that is, the most critical section. Wouldn’t be surprised if this is a representation of her knowledge and importance for the dummy plug. The stark light line of the background aligns perfectly with Gendo’s gaze, a literal “line of sight” showing how his attention is fixed fully on the girl before him. And this scene wouldn’t be complete without another reaction shot of Ritsuko, her face now hardened with clear contempt—an evolution of the confusion we saw back in Episode 5. Her jealousy of Gendo and Rei’s relationship is difficult to miss now, especially as Gendo invites Rei to lunch and leaves Akagi behind.

Speaking of food, Suzuhara begins indulging in all the nutritious produce you’d expect for a kid his age, while Asuka and Shinji get into a bickering match. Toji breaks them up with a snide remark at their burgeoning romance, which is ironic given how he’ll later miss Hikari’s advances. It’s also another highlight of Shinji and Asuka’s struggling relationship, Asuka still an irresponsible domineering force, and Shinji reduced once more to a spineless people-pleaser.

The following scene in Ritsuko’s office is a barrage of subtextual clues, starting with her dual cat figurines. There are a number of interpretations surrounding the felines, the most common being the white cat represents Ritsuko, while the black represents someone she loves. Usually that’s taken to mean Gendo or Kaji, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say in this instance, it’s Misato. Of course, we see the two are not seeing eye to eye, not even on the same level with Ritsuko looking away while seated, Misato looking forward while standing. Misato’s icy opening is a clear indication they’re still not doing well after last episode’s fight, and while Ritsuko conveys information about the Fourth Pilot, she then withholds specifics, a mutual verbal cold shoulder. Misato asks vaguely about secrets, possibly giving Akagi the chance to share information about Gendo’s plans, but when she keeps that door closed, they return to the topic of the pilot and Ritsuko is willing to let her know who it is.

[Also, we have the coffee pot interspersed with this scene, a reminder of Ritsuko and Misato’s give and take, like in Episode 13. The first shot is motionless, like Akagi’s stance on information, but the second pans to the right, indicating their relationship is progressing again because of this olive branch.]

Her reaction indicates it’s someone already known. I love the following shots, with Rei and Asuka sharing a report log, but Shinji getting his own file: another visual distinction separating him from his colleagues. Also there’s Kaji’s souvenir from Episode 15. I can’t say I disagree with Misato’s decision to keep Toji’s identity secret from Shinji; I mean he’s one of Shinii’s only friends, I’d even say his best friend, and giving him the opportunity to worry over Suzuhara joining his lifestyle is cruel in its own way.

It’s a damned if you do or don’t situation, and Ritsuko urges Katsuragi to ease up emotionally. She doesn’t want to, but realizes she must; and so the two end up on the same page, and staring in the same direction: just like the cats we started with

Toji then receives the bulletin to deliver to Rei, and when he chooses to go with Shinji instead of Hikari, the long close-up tells us everything: she loves him, he’s oblivious to her, the two are destined for love if the guy can just get over himself. It’s a tale as old as time, let’s move on to the featureless apartments, shall we?

When the boys enter Rei’s flat, the scuffed tile and Suzuhara’s nimble stride tell us Rei’s not one to take her shoes off at the door: another sign of her heedless exemption to societal norms. Also, back in Episode 5, the show made a point of Shinji tiptoeing across the tile, but now he’s comfortable, and Toji is the one left to suffer. As Shinji begins cleaning the place and Suzuhara refuses to join him, calling him unmanly, the two have a brief heart-to-heart wherein Toji, true to his nature, gives Shinji a bit of encouragement, realizing how he’s gone from highly introverted and selfish, to remarkably courageous and mindful.

Rei arrives then, completely unphased at the two guys in her house, because again, what is normal, and the zoom out from the bulletin to the now-clean floor space shows her focus shifting, and she’s taken aback. It’s a reversal of the grope trope we saw before—I just said grope trope again—where the anticipated action has a delay in the reaction. Whereas before it wasn’t the mishandling but the badmouthing that caused a slap, here it’s not the intrusion but the kindness that causes a blush. And just look at her, speechless for the first time because the guy she’s crushing on just cleaned her apartment. Maybe she’s definitely falling for him, huh? Hmm?

On the walk back, Suzuhara reiterates his perspective: that the Eva pilots are all weirdos and oh my goodness you can sense the irony around the corner.

A final scene with Rei realizing she’s expressed gratitude to Shinji, a kindness that even Gendo hasn’t received. Which really puts into perspective how automated her life has been up to this point: she never felt the need to thank Gendo, because everything between them was strictly transactional. Shinji is the first person to exceed her expectations, and he did it simply by gathering trash.

Second title card, and you know things are about to get serious.

A straightforward interchange between Fuyutski and Gendo highlights the completion of Tokyo-3’s construction, which brings with it a sense of closure to the series overall, and as Ikari waxes poetic about the purpose of cities, it’s easy to understand where Rei got her inspiration for Episode 12’s lecture.

The following scene featuring Kaji and his overly womanizing impulses is bizarre for a number of reasons, most notably the absolute lack of consistency with camera placement. It’s all over the place, which might be a sign of Kaji’s flitting attitude and allegiance as he and his shadow once again let Misato into the dark regarding NERV’s secrets—or mayhaps it’s just lazy shot layout, who knows. Even Shinji can’t escape Ryoji’s advances, although he remains delightfully stalwart as Kaji treats him to a pumpkin latte.

This is the first scene since meeting where Shinji and his adult foil interact alone, establishing a new personal dynamic. Kaji’s transparency with his hobby—gardening—starts off their friendship with a healthy dose of trust that catapults into yet another philosophical debate, a ricochet off the last as they discuss Shinji’s pain in the place of Kaji’s pleasure. Ryoji’s intimacy with nature is a necessary contrast to the machines everyone else daily deals with. Whereas others dwell within constructs, be those cities, terminals, or Evas, Kaji is the only person with a demonstrable connection to the natural, having achieved a synergy with it that provides him peace and purpose above his mundane tasks. His job as a character is to uncover NERV’s secrets; his purpose as a person supersedes that. Shinji takes a few mental notes; I’m sure at this point he’s looking for any tips on how to integrate with the uncontrollable, learn to surrender, so to speak. And in the next scene it’s not a stretch to imagine its these new tips—and his previous Eva experience—that contribute to his struggling sync-test—the results of which prompt Misato to continue withholding Toji’s secret.

Immediately following this exchange, Toji is summoned to the principal’s office, and this cut, as well as Ritsuko’s voice, puts down all doubts.

I love the simplicity of Shinji and Ida’s discussion, how the blocking is a reversal of positioning from his talk with Kaji, and showing that no matter where Shinji stands, he’s clueless from both sides. Ida’s reaction to Shinji’s ignorance with NERV’s operations goes the extra mile to highlight how the audience and now certain characters can see the dark he’s being kept in. It was one thing when Misato had nothing to hide, but now with even her holding secrets, Shinji’s alienation is all the more apparent.

Here comes the return of our old friend, the laptop, and Suzuhara. His change in body language, indicating the weight he now bears, is obvious: what I find more interesting is his arrival coinciding with the professor’s lecture on the Second Impact, where he mentions the decreasing birth rate, but still inscribes the next generation as the hope for the future. This is an overt reference to Japan’s very real population crisis, but I also read it as a telling sign—going back to Misato and Ritsuko’s argument—that it’s bad enough forcing children to pilot death machines to save humanity but adds an extra layer of worse if that candidate pool is steadily shrinking. Despite NERV and SEELE’s best efforts, hope is slowly draining away.

Toji standing before the garbage furnace to insinuate his future is burning away in front of him is a little on the nose, but the reference to Episode 3 and Shinji dropping off the apartment trash is a great callback and another fantastic use of negative space to illustrate how completely alone Suzuhara is. Him then eating lunch at dinner time before he’s even finished with cleanup is another show of how buried he is with responsibilities, and Hikari offers to take some of the weight off his shoulders. Even better, Toji reciprocates, establishing their relationship for real.

When Asuka approaches Kaji that night, the way their relationship has changed is readily apparent. Asuka can no longer approach him with sincere adoration, instead donning a cheerful mask with some effort to lure him in the same way she’s always tried. She hasn’t learned to adapt her strategy, and I’m beginning to think she simply doesn’t know how. Kaji, as well, shuts her down, no longer starting or even responding to conversations with her like at the start. She tries an even bolder approach, and Kaji’s wrathful reply demonstrates the degrees in which they’ve separated. In Episode 8, he initiated; in 10, he responded; in 15, he failed to reciprocate; and now, he’s blatantly refusing her. Her childish demeanor is only deteriorating faster, along with Kaji’s patience, and her reaction to seeing Toji on the roster doesn’t help. Toji is, of course, the only other person besides Rei who’s ever succeeded (in some small way) in putting Asuka in her place.

We get a glimpse of Evangelion Unit-03, clad in Toji’s colors, rising to loom over our cast, and it’s ascending to the heavens crucified. If that’s not a hint for what happens next, I don’t know what is. And with that, we close the episode out as Hikari busily sets to cooking for her beloved, and Toji, looking back, scores a single point alone.

Fun fact, in the original draft of the overall series, Shinji and Toji were meant to face off in a basketball game in Act I, with Shinji originally slated to win. The writers decided against this to keep Shinji from seeming too perfect, but here we have a callback to that erased scene which remains in the final product, Toji’s hollow win here a reference to a nonexistent match in which he lost.

A loss he is doomed to repeat, and ambivalent to experience.

Episode 18: Ambivalence

In another scene reminiscent of Katsuragi’s leave in Episode 7, 18 opens with Shinji and Misato discuss Asuka’s declining behavior, likely exasperated by recent revelations, and her decision to avoid the two of them because she believes they already knew about Toji and were leaving her out of the loop. Here, Misato is poised to reveal the Fourth Children, given this is her last chance to say anything, when Shinji interrupts and begins questioning last episode’s rumors with surprising forwardness. It’s when Shinji specifically asks about the pilot we get a short but direct reaction from Misato, and then a an awkward top-down shot to emphasize her discomfort as she struggles to formulate the proper response. It’s Ida’s opportune, or tragically unfortunate timing, depending on how you want to see it, that drives the thought away as he yet more forwardly requests to pilot Unit-03. This obvious demonstration of Ida’s reckless ambition and dare I say selfishness is the very thing that keeps him out of the cockpit; Toji understands the gravity of using an Evangelion; Ida still sees it as a plaything for glory, like a typical action protagonist. And NERV knows this as well: after all, it wouldn’t be their first Evangelion trip.

Our first title, Life and Death Decisions, couldn’t be more on the nose as we cut back to Misato, again with Ritsuko, and their discussion of the pilot leads to Toji which leads to Asuka; it’s all one bundled up mess of yarn as this point. Shinji notices Toji’s change in attitude as he skips lunch to sulk on the roof, where Shinji and Ida inadvertently discussed him just the day before. In fact, if you superimpose both shots, you’ll notice Toji dead center between them, replacing the trash bag. Interpret that how you will.

He and Rei’s scene is straightforward, where she knows about his secret but needs him to reveal her own feelings about Shinji. I wonder also if he’s already mourning his relationship with Hikari, knowing his new duty will inevitably separate them one way or another.

In class, Shinji and Toji are thinking about each other as Toji skips to continue meditating, and at this point it’s obvious there’s more than just adjustment going on. Toji is the first and only pilot in the series to fully grasp and comprehend the life-altering and life-threatening position he’s in. His sister nearly died in Sachiel’s rampage; the only other pilot who can remotely relate might be Shinji, who chose to save Rei, his own spiritual sister. Toji recalls he and Shinji’s first meeting where he punched him for that piloting decision; now, he’s about to pilot Unit-03, and the twisted irony of fate seems to have been planted way back then, as Toji’s once “punch now, talk later” attitude has softened to be more contemplative. It’s the exact opposite evolution of Shinji’s own behavior, as represented by Toji unclenching his fist, releasing his strength, instead of Shinji’s confident grasp. The same fist to beat Shinji is the one he opens here, as he becomes the very thing he once hated and antagonized.

There’s a one-off shot of the basketball he tossed earlier, now resting lifelessly in a dark gym, a reminder of loss.

Hikari and Asuka grow closer, discussing the former’s crush on Toji, and I can’t help but appreciate Asuka’s rare display of empathy, lending her strength to a friend and counseling her in a field they’ve both struggled with. She also says everyone knows Hikari’s feelings except for the trio, a fun reversal of Episode 9 where only the trio knew the truth of Asuka’s temperament.

In the apartment, Shinji asks Asuka about the pilot, and here she finally realizes he’s also out of the loop—the only one left, in fact. Her consideration and declining to tell him could be a revenge move to keep him in the dark, but I always interpreted this as her measuring Misato’s reason and deciding to defer to her judgement.

Shinji and Kaji have another brief heart-to-heart, Shinji now comfortable enough to ask him about Gendo, but Kaji knows nothing. Instead of leaving Shinji dry, however, he encourages him to focus more on himself than obsessing over his father. A good bit of advice which Shinji uses to turn the conversation back in a fun way; but despite all their talk, the two don’t connect on a meaningful level, left more confused than satisfied, as indicated by their looking away from each other.

The day after, Hikari is searching for Toji to share lunch with, but he’s gone, and given what’s about to happen to him, all her kindness is about to prove worthless, as shown with the cut from her offering to the trash bag. The test begins, fails in exactly the way we all saw coming, and the Angel, given its own S2 Drive, doesn’t need a power cord; proving itself literally unleashed as we cut to our second title: Ambivalence.

NERV prepares to meet the rogue Eva, reclassified as the 13^th Angel, Bardiel, by sending all three Units to intercept it. When Shini realizes what the target is, his hesitation becomes the distraction that gets Asuka knocked out, proving immediately that everyone keeping him in the dark was a massive tactical mistake, and they’re all about to pay for it. Rei is tasked directly by Gendo to eliminate Bardiel, but her faltering relationship with him and newfound friendship with Toji causes her to falter as well, giving Bardiel another chance to incapacitate an Eva. To save Unit-00 from infection, Gendo makes the correct but brutal decision to sever the arm, without first disconnecting Rei, effectively amputating her.

That leaves Shinji as the last line of defense, and he knows the pilot inside is just like him, maybe even the most like him; so much so, in fact, Bardiel uses the same attack as Unit-01 from its very first Angel fight in Episode 2. I also can’t help but draw comparisons between the two Evas’ emergence from the flames or sun behind them. Is this a simple reuse of animation plates? An indication that the Angels are capable of learning from one another’s past experiences? Or a representation of Shinji facing himself?

The Ikaris butt heads, Shinji unwilling to heed his father’s orders, and while it’s easy to empathize with him, you can’t deny Gendo’s perspective: Shinji’s stubbornness can’t be allowed to compromise world safety. And this leads to Shinji’s shutdown, and the activation of the Dummy Plug.

The shutdown of Shinji’s Unit burns green, before a bloody bath of red washes over it, connection replaced with pain.

The resulting carnage is more heard than felt, scenes of hellish gore scattered across buildings and highways highlighting the immensity of the massacre. In the dying daylight, Unit-01 goes from a deep purple to a markedly darker near black, a color change that blurs the distinction of the Evas, making it impossible to tell which is more the monster. Bardiel now eviscerated, Shinji watches helplessly as the entry plug is targeted and crushed in his right hand, the symbol of confident strength now twisted into a mechanism of uncontrolled destruction.

Unit-03’s hand is framed reaching up from a river, fingers splayed in a desperate clutching motion like a ghost trying to claw back into life. Back in Tokyo-3, Hikari prepares a meal for a man we’re to understand will never return to her.

From a blackened screen, we hear medical personnel pronounce a survivor. Given what just occurred, we should hope it’s Toji, but the fade to Misato not only subverts that expectation but reminds us of the extent of Bardiel’s destruction. She contacts Shinji, still sealed in Unit-01, the Dummy Plug lifeless behind him as he blames himself for what just happened. Then a miracle, as the pilot of Unit-03 is confirmed alive, pulled battered from a bleeding entry plug. A miracle of twisted truth, as Shinji realizes the boy he just massacred is his best friend.

His heart pounds in his ears, Misato’s desperate cries hysteric as his eyes dilate in the same way as when he discovered the truth of the Evas back in Episode 2.

He’s forced to revisit his own bestiality, and we’re forced to wait, as Shinji’s psychic break cuts to black.

Now everybody who didn’t stop watching the show here knows the obvious: within the continuity of the show, Toji doesn’t die. We see him in the next episode, amputated, but alive, his beloved Hikari finally united with him. And this is the last we see of him. The following shot doesn’t merely cut him from view, but from the series. His injury serves the purpose of pushing Shinji over the edge, and once that’s accomplished, he’s removed from the narrative. In effect, he dies in Shinji’s hands: his purpose as a character fulfilled.

Now, why keep him alive at all if it would be more effective and devastating to kill him off? Because when Hideaki Anno made a deal with King Records to air Evangelion on television, they gave him two immutable constraints: to work with King Records for five years and avoid killing children during the series’ runtime. That promise is, Anno claims, the only reason Toji survived. And it’s a promise he openly wishes he’d broken.

One has to wonder, though, if Toji lives only due to a real-world technicality, does he really, in the subtext of the show, survive at all? We’ll deduce later that his family moves out of Tokyo-3, to safety, but that seems a convenient fairytale ending to satisfy a very real contract for a character who after this point is effectively murdered. He exists ever after in a Schrödinger dream space, both preserved in perfect heroic un-wholeness, and martyred, killed to stoke the fires of Shinji’s conviction.

Speculation and sparse evidence cite Toji’s amputation as a reference to the missing leg of Anno’s own father, lost at a young age in a lumber mill accident. Anno says he loves the imperfect and draws his excitement to damage from a desire to see the unblemished become so. Maybe that’s only regarding the series’ aesthetics, or perhaps it’s a justification for the direction of the narrative at large.

After all, how could a story about the weight of existence be anything other than glaringly imperfect?

Outro

Thank you all so much for watching! I hope this Evangelion deep dive proved as captivating as the last—was the last one captivating? Hope so. I’m excited to finish Act IV and see how far the deconstruction goes: trust me, there are many more callbacks to be investigated. Let me know your thoughts on this video, and if by some chance you haven’t seen our previous retrospectives, be sure to check those out.

I’m super excited to wrap this up, and despite my best efforts, it looks like there’s no way I’ll have these videos complete by March: so rejoice, there will be plenty more Evangelion coming your way.

Until then, I’ve been Jir0, y’all have been amazing, and I’ll see you all on the bright side.

God bless.

Evidence concerning the connection between Toji and Anno’s father: https://wiki.evageeks.org/Statements_by_Evangelion_Staff#Hideaki_Anno:_Disability_Shapes_Taste_for_the_Imperfect_.28Asahi_Evening_News_03.2F1999.29