Does Utena ever become a prince? By exact definition, Utena cannot be a prince because she is a girl. Webster’s defines a prince as “the son of a king,” and she is neither a boy, nor born of royalty. The only other way to gain such a title would be to marry royalty and even in that case her title would be princess. Having said all that, Ohtori isn’t really a good place to be discussing exact definitions.

In the context of the story, being a prince is not a matter of birth or wearing a crown, but rather a philosophical concept, or more to the point, a type of morality. Because this sense of morality is not dependent on the actual definition of a prince, the concept is very fluid and open to interpretation, by both the characters and the viewers. There are several possible definitions of being a prince, and different characters who display these traits to different degrees, but the important definition is the one Utena hopes to become.

The first prince is the fairy tale prince we are introduced to in the beginning of the series—the man who saves a young girl from her sorrow and promises to meet her again one day if she remains noble. This prince has infinite will and wisdom, charm, and a sense of nobility, and, as such, he is adored by all. Utena has a strong will, a lot of charm which makes her popular with her fellow students, and a strong sense of nobility, or the desire to do what she believes is right. Utena’s flaw is her lack of wisdom; she is far too naďve, especially with regard to her own sense of righteousness. She is wrong a lot of the time, but she doesn’t seem to know it.

The philosophy of the prince is important, but a prince is also defined by his actions. As indicated by the shadow girls play in episode 34, the prince spends his time saving princesses from danger, either external monsters or internal ones, than kissing them before dashing off to save someone else. A prince makes girls princesses by protecting them, and thus fills the world with light and goodness. In other words, he makes everyone happy.

The problem with forever protecting someone is that they never learn to protect themselves, that is, to face their own monsters. The princesses become dependent on the prince to slay every kind of demon they face, whether literal boggarts or heartbreaking loneliness. If love is a trade of values, how can these helpless girls honestly love a prince who, with his best intentions, has left them weak, if they weren’t weak and useless already? Likewise, the prince’s concept of himself is tied to his ability to make his princesses happy, but he is bound to fail because there will always be another monster to slay. Both parties are slaves, and such a state is an effrontery to morality, and thus nobility. The light he spreads is the light of hope, but it is a false hope—it is the hope that someone else will make your life OK. This is the hope of all of the duelists.

Utena believes she is acting like a prince when she protects Anthy, and, in a way, she is. She wants to protect Anthy from being used, but she never tries to understand who she truly is. In fact, if Utena considers Anthy her princess, than she is using her to become what she considers a prince. This is what she finally realizes before the final duel. Utena does fail in being a prince to Anthy, but she becomes something much better—a friend.

Her final moments of prying open the Rose Tomb was not for the sake of being a prince, but an honest attempt to save a girl with whom she had been happy. She couldn’t pull the girl out and *died* instead, but her attempt was not in vain. A prince rescues girls and makes them princesses, but Utena rescued a Rose Bride and made her a girl—she helped Anthy see that she was the one with the power to leave all along. Her revolution empowered other people to make their own decisions and stop waiting for the day when their prince would come to do it for them.

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