Princess Tutu’s fifth episode poses one central question: “are you afraid of the dark?” This question is framed in literal terms through its ghost story embellishments and light-emitting focus character, with Mytho himself moving from a dark and lonely library to a warm yet sterile tomb. But it also speaks to more metaphorical concerns, like the ambiguous nature of Mytho’s memories. Darkness is security, in a way; darkness is nothingness, darkness is inaction, darkness is the absence of pain. Light and understanding can bring us joy, but they can also bring us suffering. Those who know nothing may be the happiest of all.
The episode’s opening monologue centers us on this question, telling a story not of an ancient struggle between prince and raven, but of Mytho’s present-day existence. “Once upon a time, there was a happy prince. The happy prince knew no painful past and he knew no painful future. One day, the prince obtained a comforting warmth. However, this warmth emanated not just tranquility, but also unhappiness, pain, and loneliness.”
The narrator’s words are obviously referring to the story of Princess Tutu, and frame Mytho’s journey in deeply conflicted terms. At the beginning of the story, Mytho feels nothing – nothing positive, nothing negative, just nothing at all. He is not necessarily “happy,” but he is content, and in the world of Princess Tutu that may well be the best anyone can hope for. When “light” enters his dark world in the form of emotions, his feelings are illuminated – and those feelings won’t necessarily be positive ones. Perhaps it is better to remain in the darkness of unfeeling, rather than suffer the pain of a full range of emotions.
On the other hand, the fact that the narrator is now retelling our ongoing narrative should also raise suspicion as to the validity of this whole framing. Drosselmeyer ended the previous episode by warning “will these unwanted emotions really make the prince happy?”, and here in the fifth episode, the narrator is unquestioningly repeating Drosselmeyer’s interpretation. Storytelling is always a motivated act in Princess Tutu, and how a story is told often reflects its teller’s biases more than any larger truth. It’s worth asking if returning Mytho’s emotions is really the right thing for him, but it’s also worth remembering that the people raising that question are far from neutral observers.
As the episode proper begins, lovely shots of the school grounds and library pan us into Fakir interrupting Rue, who’s now reading the Prince and the Raven. Their following conversation reveals that both of these characters seem to know the whole pre-Tutu story – that Mytho was once a prince in a story, and that he has lost his heart. Whether Rue and Fakir are two halves of the raven, two separate characters from the same narrative, or unrelated to Mytho’s story entirely is still unclear (though Fakir does later mention how he “found” Mytho and named him) – as of this point, the only thing we clearly know is that Rue and Fakir seem to have very different ideas about what’s best for Mytho.
Meanwhile, after learning about the local Fire Festival occurring that evening, Ahiru ends up running into Mytho as he waits to practice dancing with Rue. This sequence is an unusual but satisfying mix of menacing and charming, with Ahiru’s lively cuts of silly animation counterbalanced by Drosselmeyer’s continuous mockery. Princess Tutu’s excellent visual storytelling shines all through this sequence, with the noodly limbs of its characters once again facilitating terrific character acting. Sato’s disregard for holistic layouts is also leaned into both here and elsewhere, through compelling tricks like Drosselmeyer wheeling past the screen’s soft focus, and perhaps less well-advised ones like a later fiery transition making use of abrasively realistic flames.
This scene also represents perhaps the first moment that Mytho comes off as a convincing person. There are obviously clear reasons for Mytho to not be a particularly engaging character so far – after all, the whole story is centered around him slowly regaining his humanity. On top of that, the fact that he begins the story as an emotionless goal makes him a cheeky parallel for the role princesses often play in fairy tales, framed more as objectives to earn than actual people possessing any real agency. Taking all that into account, it still feels tremendously satisfying to see him admit that “when I’m alone, it’s so dark and cold,” and talk to Ahiru with genuine interest. In this continuously oppressive narrative frame, it’s nice to see Ahiru and Mytho share a brief moment of camaraderie and joy.
Unfortunately, Emperor Buzzkill Fakir himself witnesses their dance, and thus Ahiru is finally drawn into their weird domestic disputes. It is here that Fakir makes his “I was the one who gave you the name Mytho” speech, before locking Mytho in the library for disobeying him. Once again, Tutu establishes some really satisfying and dramatic compositions for Ahiru’s confrontation with Fakir, leading into her accidentally spilling the beans about Mytho’s heart shards. But as she’s often done before, Ahiru here demonstrates that in spite of being clumsy and maybe a little over-enthusiastic, she’s also quite clever – she’s quick to grasp the key reveal that both Rue and Fakir know Mytho’s secret, while Fakir himself gets essentially no information from her in return.
Instead, Fakir returns us the episode’s starting point, stating that “if I shut him away in the darkness, he’ll eventually become numb to the dark, as well.” Fakir seems to believe the best thing for Mytho is to remain ignorant of feelings, and thus ignorant of the pain they can cause. Mytho might be afraid of the dark now, but if the dark were all he experienced, he’d see its presence as normal. As this episode’s shard-infected focus character puts it “a flame can illuminate the darkness. But without its glow, the darkness cannot even be seen.”
That metaphor comes to dominate the overt narrative as Ahiru follows Mytho into the library’s ominous underground. Soft focus offers some filmic shots and a strong sense of depth, impressing the ominous nature of this place upon us as Ahiru is asked “are you afraid of the dark? I see you are in the darkness of uncertainty.” The connection between darkness and ignorance is thus made explicit, but Ahiru pushes through her own ignorance, failing the mysterious voice’s riddles but soldiering on nonetheless. As Drosselmeyer frames her search in the urgency of “regaining your radiance or remaining trapped in the darkness,” Ahiru strides onward, and realizes the riddler is also a being of light: a humble, abandoned, and lonely lamp.
Things move in a familiar direction from there, as the lamp’s illumination of Princess Tutu’s dance eventually spins into the two of them dancing together. This lamp is another lonely soul seeking companionship, but as Tutu says “forcing people to be enveloped in your light like this won’t bring them joy.” Her words feel like the counter to Fakir’s actions, whose control of Mytho essentially mirrors what all of his unhappy heart-shard bearers have attempted. And for her efforts, Mytho is rewarded with the feeling of affection, a happy emotion at last.
Of course, this is Princess Tutu, so there’s no such thing as an untarnished happy ending. Triumphantly reuniting with Mytho at the Fire Festival, Rue at first dances gaily, but is soon shocked and dismayed by the look of real affection in his eyes. In spite of her protestations, it seems like both Fakir and Rue agree that Mytho regaining his emotions won’t necessarily be a happy thing. And once again, the smirking Drosselmeyer gets the last laugh, turning the screws on this darkness/light dichotomy. As Rue flees and Ahiru suppresses her feelings, only Drosselmeyer can smile at what the light has shown. “The prince regained his kindness, but all it illuminated was the duck’s unhappiness.”
This article was made possible by reader support. Thank you all for all that you do.