Kisaki Kyouiku kara Nigetai Watashi

I Want to Escape from Princess Lessons

Characters

Leticia

MAIN

Clarke

MAIN

Nadir

SUPPORTING

Briana

SUPPORTING

Louis

SUPPORTING

Lyle

SUPPORTING

Lily

SUPPORTING

Maria

SUPPORTING

I Want to Escape from Princess Lessons: A Season 1 Review

“I Want to Escape from Princess Lessons” (Kisaki Kyouiku kara Nigetai Watashi), a 2025 anime adaptation of Izumi Sawano’s light novel and Uri Sugata’s manga, arrived with a premise ripe for exploration: a young noblewoman’s rebellion against the suffocating expectations of royalty. Produced by EMT Squared and aired from January to March 2025, the series follows Leticia “Lettie” Dorman, a duke’s daughter betrothed to Crown Prince Clarke since age seven, as she navigates a decade of grueling princess training and her desperate attempts to reclaim her freedom. While the show’s vibrant protagonist and moments of emotional resonance offer flashes of brilliance, its inconsistent tone, troubling themes, and uneven execution leave it struggling to fulfill its potential. This review dives into the narrative, characters, themes, and production elements of Season 1, offering a critical lens on what works, what falters, and what it all means.

Narrative: A Tale of Freedom and Frustration

The story begins with a compelling setup: Leticia, once a free-spirited child who rolled in the grass with her dog, is whisked away to the royal castle for rigorous “princess lessons” to mold her into a suitable queen. These lessons—covering etiquette, posture, dining decorum, and more—strip away her individuality, leaving her a hollowed-out version of herself by her teenage years. The first episode effectively captures this loss, showing a young Leticia’s joy extinguished under the weight of relentless tutoring. When Prince Clarke appears at a royal ball with another woman, Leticia assumes her engagement is broken and flees to the countryside, sparking a fleeting moment of triumph. However, her joy is short-lived as Clarke pursues her, insisting they are still betrothed, setting up a battle of wills that defines the season.

The narrative’s strength lies in its early episodes, particularly the premiere, which balances humor and heartache. Leticia’s fourth-wall-breaking sass and her palpable relief at escaping the castle make her instantly relatable. The show’s depiction of her transformation from a vibrant child to a subdued teenager is poignant, highlighting the psychological toll of enforced conformity. However, the story stumbles as it shifts focus. After the initial escape, the plot pivots to Clarke’s pursuit of Leticia, framing it as a romantic comedy. This shift feels jarring, as the series struggles to reconcile Leticia’s quest for autonomy with Clarke’s persistent, often coercive attempts to win her back. By episode three, the narrative begins to feel repetitive, with Leticia’s escape attempts thwarted in ways that grow increasingly contrived, undermining the stakes established early on.

The season’s pacing exacerbates these issues. The first half dedicates significant time to Leticia’s oppressive training, but the latter episodes rush through her countryside escapades and Clarke’s pursuit, leaving little room for character development or narrative depth. The finale, while delivering a visually striking climax, leaves critical questions unanswered: What does Leticia truly want beyond escape? Does the story endorse her rebellion or subtly chastise it? The lack of clarity muddles the show’s message, making it feel like a missed opportunity to explore its themes with nuance.

Characters: A Mixed Cast of Motivations

Leticia Dorman is the heart of the series, and Haruka Shiraishi’s voice performance imbues her with a fiery spirit that carries even the weaker episodes. Her defiance—whether sneaking out of the castle or sassing her tutors—makes her a standout protagonist, particularly in a genre often populated by passive heroines. However, her character arc feels incomplete. While her initial trauma and desire for freedom are well-established, the show rarely explores her inner world beyond her immediate reactions, leaving her motivations static by the season’s end.

Crown Prince Clarke, voiced by Jun Fukuyama, is a more contentious figure. Intended as a charming if misguided romantic lead, Clarke’s actions—pursuing Leticia against her wishes, confining her to the castle, and dismissing her agency—come across as controlling rather than endearing. The narrative attempts to humanize him through flashbacks showing his affection for Leticia, but these moments feel unearned given his failure to address her decade-long suffering. The show’s attempt to frame his persistence as romantic often feels tone-deaf, particularly in light of modern sensibilities about consent and autonomy.

Supporting characters, such as Leticia’s brother and her strict tutor Layla, add little depth. Her brother, meant to be a caretaker, is portrayed as complicit in her suffering, yet the show never holds him accountable, a frustrating oversight. Layla, while stern, avoids physical punishment, which softens her role but doesn’t make her memorable. Other side characters, like the mysterious woman at the ball, are introduced with potential but quickly sidelined, leaving the cast feeling underdeveloped.

Themes: A Troubling Tension Between Freedom and Control

At its core, “I Want to Escape from Princess Lessons” grapples with themes of autonomy, societal expectation, and the cost of duty. Leticia’s struggle resonates as a critique of rigid gender roles, particularly the expectation that women must sacrifice individuality for societal approval. The show’s early episodes excel in depicting this, using Leticia’s transformation to comment on how systems of power—here, the monarchy and its expectations—can crush personal identity.

However, the series undermines this critique by romanticizing Clarke’s pursuit. His refusal to respect Leticia’s boundaries is often played for laughs or framed as devotion, a choice that feels regressive and troubling. Reviews from sources like Anime Feminist and Reddit discussions highlight this discomfort, noting that the show flirts with feminist ideas but pivots to a clichéd romance that normalizes coercive behavior. This tension—between championing Leticia’s agency and excusing Clarke’s control—creates a narrative dissonance that weakens the show’s thematic impact. A story about breaking free could have been empowering, but the season’s reluctance to fully commit to Leticia’s independence leaves it feeling conflicted.

Production: Visual and Technical Shortcomings

Visually, the series is a mixed bag. EMT Squared’s animation is serviceable but lacks distinction, particularly in its depiction of the royal court. The character designs, overseen by director Tagashira Shinobu, are criticized for their simplicity, with Clarke’s generic appearance failing to convey the charisma needed for his role. Leticia’s design fares better, her expressive features carrying the comedic and emotional beats, but the background characters and settings feel like stock European aristocracy, lacking unique flair. The countryside scenes offer a refreshing contrast, with lush greens and open skies that mirror Leticia’s brief taste of freedom, but these moments are too brief to elevate the overall aesthetic.

The soundtrack, while unobtrusive, fails to leave a lasting impression. The opening theme captures Leticia’s rebellious spirit, but the score itself blends into the background, missing opportunities to enhance the emotional weight of key scenes. Voice acting is a highlight, with Shiraishi’s performance stealing the show and Fukuyama doing his best with a flawed character. However, the direction often feels uncertain, struggling to balance the comedic and dramatic tones, which contributes to the season’s uneven feel.

Reception and Cultural Context

The series has sparked polarized reactions. On platforms like MyAnimeList and Reddit, some viewers praise Leticia’s spunk and the show’s lighthearted moments, with a median rating of “So-so” and a small but dedicated fanbase. Others, however, lambast its handling of consent and its failure to deliver a cohesive story, with critics like those on Anime Feminist and Indiecator.org calling it “toxic waste” for glorifying abusive dynamics. The show’s roots in the josei genre, which often explores romantic tropes with forceful male leads, explain some of its creative choices, but its 2025 release feels out of step with contemporary expectations for respectful relationships.

The source material—a light novel serialized from 2018 to 2019 and a manga with six volumes by 2024—has a modest following, with 1.2 million copies in circulation by 2023. However, the anime’s adaptation struggles to translate the manga’s detailed art and the novel’s internal monologues, resulting in a flatter narrative. Fans of the original works appreciate Leticia’s humor but echo frustrations with the story’s problematic undertones.

The Bigger Picture: What Could Have Been

“I Want to Escape from Princess Lessons” had the potential to be a subversive take on the romance fantasy genre, using Leticia’s rebellion to critique patriarchal structures and celebrate self-determination. Instead, it falls into familiar traps, prioritizing a questionable romance over its protagonist’s agency. The show’s strongest moments—Leticia’s defiance, her fleeting moments of freedom—hint at what could have been a powerful story about breaking free from oppressive systems. Yet, its insistence on framing Clarke’s pursuit as romantic undercuts this message, leaving viewers with a narrative that feels at odds with itself.

For those drawn to character-driven stories, Leticia’s charm and Shiraishi’s performance make the series intermittently engaging. However, its failure to resolve its thematic contradictions or develop its cast beyond surface-level traits makes it a frustrating watch. The season ends on an ambiguous note, setting up a potential second season, but without a clearer commitment to its protagonist’s autonomy, it risks repeating the same mistakes.

Final Thoughts

Season 1 of “I Want to Escape from Princess Lessons” is a tale of squandered potential. It starts strong, with a relatable heroine and a sharp critique of societal expectations, but it falters in its execution, bogged down by problematic themes and an inconsistent narrative. Leticia shines as a beacon of defiance, but the show’s refusal to let her fully reclaim her agency leaves a bitter aftertaste. For viewers seeking a lighthearted romp, it offers moments of humor, but those hoping for a deeper exploration of freedom and identity will find it lacking. In a season dominated by bolder anime like “My Dress-Up Darling” and “The Summer Hikaru Died,” this series struggles to stand out, a cautionary tale of a good idea lost in translation.

Rating: 6/10 – A promising premise undone by thematic missteps and uneven storytelling, saved only by its spirited protagonist.