Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, No. 4 - TMNT (2007)

The “Turtles” never disappeared in the Twenty-First Century, though they’ve never been quite as ubiquitous as around 1990. So a second animated program ran from 2003 to 2009, hewing closer than the first to the comics’ dark tone, due to control from the Eastman/Laird-owned Mirage Studios. Of course the “Turtles” remain a kids’ property, with a wholly new fandom now. There’s always been enough interest to keep the franchise active, but never again huge.

Then all of a sudden in 2007, a new theatrical “Turtle” movie came into being, TMNT, an all-CGI animated tale from Imagi studios and writer/director Kevin Munroe. This was earlier in the same year as Michael Bay’s Transformers, a live action reinvigoration of a different ‘80s toy/cartoon line. But that made sense at the time, it having been roughly 20 years since the previous “Transformers” theatrical picture, The Transformers: The Movie. That’s enough time to maximize the nostalgia value for that property, for Bay’s effort to appeal to the broadest spectrum of grown “Transformers” fans and new youngsters. The timing was absolutely perfect.

Whereas with TMNT, my immediate 2007 response was, “What, already?!” It’d been a mere 14 years since Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III, the franchise killer, and only 17 since the high point, the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. As one of the “Turtle” faithful from the early ‘90s, I can attest my nostalgic fondness for the reptiles hadn’t yet fully formed, that the franchise was jumping the ‘80s nostalgia reboot trend a tad early. (Today, however…)

The resulting TMNT feels a little minor, especially compared to what the not-great Transformers accomplished. Not to mention, the whole CGI thing when Transformers was moving to live action…It all feels a little regressive.

It’s likely, however, that TMNT’s existence owes more to the vagaries of film right laws than anything resembling cultural demand. In 2004, Golden Harvest’s claim to theatrical “Turtles” movies expired, opening the property up to the Weinstein Company. Almost as if to stake a theatrical claim, for legal reasons, they resolved to make a feature – and CGI offers the perfect combination of cost effectiveness and freedom (plus it distances TMNT from III). Like the upcoming Spider-Man reboot really exists in response to Disney’s acquisition of Marvel, TMNT is very likely a movie that had to happen, to keep the film rights active.

Not too say Kevin Munroe doesn’t do all he can with TMNT. The man seems to be a genuine “Turtles” fan, even while this purse-of-a-pig’s-ear is verifiably an in-continuity sequel with III. (Artifacts from the movie franchise are clearly shown in the Turtles’ lair.) Like any good quasi-reboot, TMNT goes Darker and Edgier, meaning it makes sense that the film follows the comics’ tenor over the now long-defunct ‘90s cartoon show. That means once again we’re denied the joys of a big movie Technodrome, and Krang, and all attendant goodies and – Okay, maybe I’m the only one who wants all that stuff. Still, TMNT is “Less cowabunga” at a time when that’s likely essential – it must distance itself from the perceived “surfer dude” problems of old, as it’s too soon to capitalize on those silly elements.


So without the Shredder, and with a continued aversion to the show’s rogues gallery, who are the Turtles to face off against? Why, a totally new character, who is thus strangely the least original part of TMNT. That would be multibillionaire businessman Max Winters (Patrick Stewart’s authoritative voice), a man who…

Okay, his arguably-evil plan is not very clear, but here’s what can be parsed out from a Lord of the Rings-esque opening battle/Lawrence Fishburne narration: Three-thousand years ago, the evil warlord Yoatl (now Winters) led his evil army of evil generals evil rampant blah blah blah…Using a “once every 3,000 years” alignment of the “Stars of Kikan” constellation, Yoatl wins his evil war of evilness, but not before – turning himself immortal, turning his generals to stone, and unleashing 13 monsters upon the world. …Um…okay…

This dump of arbitrary, random, new-yet-clichéd plotting assaults the audience mere seconds after an even more desultory narration tries to justify the presence of, well, teenage, mutant, ninja turtles in New York City. (It’s probably only one year now since III in film, hence they’re still technically teenagers thank God – though I calculate 19-years-old.)


Anyway, back to Winters: Conveniently, the next Kikan alignment is coming up (how lucky for mankind this happens while the Turtles exist). Longing to break his accursed immortality, Winters…Okay, deep breath…revives his stone generals, who now live but are still made of stone (like something out of one of the Frasier Mummy movies). He has also hired the still-existent Foot Clan, headed by comic character Karai (Zhang Ziyi’s breathy purr), to capture those 13 monsters – who are all randomly rampaging unknown throughout New York City, sans property damage or death. If Winters can amass those monsters, or collect ‘em all, within his central Manhattan Ghostbusters-esque metaphysical-reactor-by-way-of-architecture, all on the precise every-3,000-years moment, and only with his stone generals there, then…Winters will no longer be immortal. Or something. And somehow the bad guy becoming suddenly killable is “bad,” because maybe (it ain’t too clear) by doing so he shall release monsters upon this world. Or more monsters, at any rate. Or…okay, whatever, bad guy exists, must be stopped, let’s leave it at that.

This is a danged lot of info for something so generic, and the least successful thing about TMNT. In fact, all the human elements, such as Winters, are the most awkward. This extends to character design, which renders people as angular abstractions, but as least never comes anywhere near the Uncanny Valley.

The Turtles’ designs, of course, are far more appealing, which is as it should be. Their story, such as it is, is better too, for this is where Munroe’s desire to recreate his memory of the old “Turtles” serves him the strongest. Just too bad they can’t be proactive about the Winters nonsense until well into the finale.

The Turtles’ glory days are over, the Shredder shredded, and Leonardo (James Arnold Taylor) has been sent by Master Splinter (Mako, voice for “Samurai Jack” and “Avatar: The Last Airbender”) to Central America (nation never specified) to “train to be a better leader.” Just how Splinter thinks sending Leo alone into the wilderness will improve his ability to lead his turtle brothers, I cannot say. If anything, it makes relations more strained once Leo returns, especially with hothead Raph (Nolan North)…

Actually, TMNT reinvigorates the lost notion of Raphael as the most interesting Turtle, giving him angst and vigilantism to spare. Hence Raph spends his nights in secret as the Nightwatcher, a Batman-style superhero dedicated to fighting crime even when the Turtles won’t (they’ve gone into hiding at Splinter’s request, for some strange commandment that they no longer fight). This whole Nightwatcher subplot is another thread to follow, along with Leo’s return, and Winters’ assorted unclear villainies. There’s a lot to pay attention to.


Leaving Mike and Donny (Mikey Kelly and Mitchell Whitfield) largely with nothing to do. Like the first film, these Turtles are largely forgotten, as their comic relief and tech knowhow serves little purpose in such a relatively gritty tale. Mike is the biggest victim of Munroe’s “no cowabungas” dictate, with his dated surfer idioms now a self-conscious joke more than anything. (Late in the film, when Mike makes an old-style joke, Raph responds: “Mikey, remember our talk.”) And while Raph’s been off alone playing hero, Mike is a party performer, and Donny an IT tech support guy. Otherwise, they just sleep and eat pizza. Not very interesting.


For even more time is taken up with Raph’s human buddies, especially Casey Jones (Chris Evans – aka Captain America), a fellow partner in crime-fighting. Naturally, there’s also April O’Neil (the ostensibly “sexy” American tones of Sarah Michelle Gellar), though they’re kind of running out of movie to do anything with her. She doesn’t even report.

Okay, so TMNT is kind of overstuffed with plot, thanks to an over-complicated villain plot, and an independent Turtle schism told while having to reestablish all these characters. It’s overambitious, and never coalesces, which is a good example of why Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles benefited so much from a streamlined story. Otherwise, TMNT is easily the best Turtles movie since the first.

One major advantage is how it presents the action sequences. No longer beholden to the sickening pabulum of “no fighting in a kids’ movie” which dogged the Turtles sequels, this PG-rated movie can do pretty much anything it likes with its CGI characters. It’s not violent, per se, but we do get to see the use of katanas and sais and whatnot in a non-lethal context. (Secret of the Ooze didn’t even let its Turtles handle their trademark weapons!) So on those oddly rare moments where the Turtles battle the Foot Clan, or a monster (the monster stuff is mostly an unrelated montage), things are at a blissfully simple level, like…like –

Like a video game! Indeed, the animation style of TMNT resembles nothing so much as a really long, rather well done cut scene. (There is some cut scene experience in this film’s crew.) Consider the whole of Manhattan feels small, like a model set, the Turtles no larger than the action figures we all hopefully had as children, conscientious consumers that we are. But when you use CGI as a cost-cutting tool, that’s the result. This is an inexpensive movie, less costly by far than the cheapo-looking III – this in an era when Pixar movies are amongst the most expensive to produce. The thing does look independent (or at least as independent as all-CGI can), but that frees ‘em up to do as they will with the Turtles.


And while TMNT may rarely cohere as the perfect Turtles movie – most of the Turtles are too forgotten for that to happen – there are moments which must count as the greatest Turtle moments yet. Consider, after a comic slapstick fight between Raph and a tiny monster (one I’m too embarrassed to even explore much), Raph faces off against Leo on a rooftop. At two-thirds through, this is the simmering conflict coming to a head, Raph’s rage against Leo’s intended leadership. And the two actually duke it out, Leo at first fighting simply “Nightwatcher,” then even egged on to duel once he knows it’s his own brother.

Amazing, that in a film filled with toy-ready monsters, and stone Mayan generals of yore, and all sorts of other pandemonium, it’s a scene between the two pre-established characters which works best. It’s in the fine Asian tradition of the fight as the musical number, emotions worked out physically. And the emotions in this fight are to 11, Raph even getting as least once big “Nooooooooooooo!” to the heavens. Of course, with the rain and ninjitsu and neon lighting and so forth, it’s derivative…derivative of The Matrix, mostly, but what action film of the ‘00s can claim different? (The Bourne series.) But TMNT is mostly geared towards a younger audience, not nostalgia hounds (too soon, man!), so it’s somewhat understandable to give ‘em a “My First Matrix Rip-Off.” For Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was just giving us the action films of the ‘80s watered down anyway. It’s nothing new!


Ultimately Leo is captured by the stone generals, taken as a substitute for the 13th monster (which is not that Gremlins-lite monstrosity Raph was just battling, which is apparently seized by the Foot at some later point off screen). And here’s the thing: the stoners don’t want to be made mortal, as Winters does – and tricking him is as simple as not capturing a raging, drooling monster. So Winters’ ceremony shall not commence…which is a “good” thing, right?

Nah! Donny’s one moment of pure technobabble explains how monsters will soon overrun the Earth anyway. For the stone generals have surpassed Winters in villainy, rather sending him retroactively into the ranks of the good guys (as it does the Foot Clan – say what?!). And with that great, ridiculous, cosmic Kikan constellation lightshow going on in Winters’ summer home, it’s up to the Turtles to…uh…to…

Well, they have to stop the stone generals. Who are immortal. But the only way to mortalize ‘em is by delivering the 13th monster (which sounds like a great William Castle title!). But doing that will release monsters. But not doing it will also release monsters, apparently, so…


Okay, here’s the reason for all this confusion, really (beyond doing a generic ‘00s-style fantasy epic for the young uns): The generals and Winters are brothers, and they cannot get along. See, it’s all a parallel to the Turtles’ story, who do like each other (Raph and Leo have made up – it was very heartwarming). Cowabunga, it’s symbolic, dude! Too bad making this point was so danged complicated, rendering the surface plot a metaphysical shambles.

But at any rate the 13th monster is delivered, sacrificed with the rest, and the stone generals are banished to the great non-Dimension X dimension in the sky. And monsters do not suddenly run rampage, but quite the opposite, for now it is “good” to do as Winters originally wanted. Because he is now the good guy. And he’s ascending off to wherever himself, newly a mortal and newly a lightshow (there’s a lot of those).


Oddly, it is Casey Jones who’s most responsible for this victory, meaning in every entry Casey is in, he delivers the final blow to the villain. (Oh, sure, in III it was just Casey’s actor, in a different era, but I’ll allow it.) But the Turtles (and Splinter) still get the biggest action sequence, and that’s what really counts. (It’s like how Gordon saved the day in Batman Begins – exactly like that.)

So the moments in TMNT that work the best are the simplest – the Turtles being Turtles, Leo vs. Raph. It becomes a muddle in the larger story, which struggles to do something fantastical without summoning apparently “taboo” cartoon show elements (Krang, etc.). That paradoxically makes TMNT harder for a newcomer to enjoy than a true “Turtle” outing would be. But 2007 was a tough time to be a Turtle, and credit to TMNT for shedding the more inane elements of its predecessors. For its troubles, TMNT was a moderate success, certainly better off than III at $95 million (and hell, it knocked 300 from # 1), but no place near the Turtles’ former zenith.

Of course, the time wasn’t right for a Turtle reboot (they were about 4 years early, methinks). And the thing is compromised, by the need to work in continuity with its lesser predecessors (II and III), something no one ever asked for. Which leaves TMNT as the Incredible Hulk to III’s Hulk – that is, it is better, but still such a general mediocrity that it seems a letdown. All this when the series needs its Casino Royale, its total fresh break.

CGI was never the real answer, though it makes for an entertaining one-off. No, the future of the Turtles, whether you like it or not, is likely to follow in the successful nostalgia reboot footsteps of Transformers. Disgustingly, that means “Turtles” allying with the dreaded Michael Bay himself, and worse, his Platinum Dunes label, where media properties go to die. All this in spite of Munroe’s stated desire (even hinted at in-film) to do a TMNT sequel with the Shredder returning. (If that was always the case, why didn’t he just go that for TMNT!?) But if live action it must be, so be it. One only hopes whatever comes of the “Turtles” next, it somehow matches our memories of the ‘80s, that it works artistically as well as commercially.


Related posts:
• No. 1 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)
• No. 2 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze (1991)
• No. 3 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III (1993)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, No. 3 - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III (1993)

With a two year gap instead of one, and the largest budget of the series, could Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III just be the greatest film of the franchise?

Are you kidding me?! This movie is fecal! Though Turtle Mania had not completely vanished by 1993, it seems the filmmakers shepherding the live action movies had lost all inspiration to keep on shelling these things out. And can you believe something so lame is the product of a writer-director, Stuart Gillard, of so much unwanted TV, and also RocketMan. Why $20 million and the honor of four noble reptiles were entrusted to this schmuck, who’s to say?!

Ask any “Turtle” fan worth his ooze, and he’ll tell you what these movies need: The Technodrome, damn it, Krang, Bebop, Rocksteady! Denying all that is like using only Lex Luthor in every Superman sequel. But, okay, fine, supposing Eastman and Laird had contracts denying use of TV show-derived elements, limiting these movies solely to the base notion: that ninjitsu exists in this universe, and four large turtles know it. That still doesn’t excuse the laziness in conception of III, which does as so many inspiration-derived Part Threes and goes to Japan. (Another way this franchise mirrors the soon-to-be-reviewed Bad News Bears franchise.)

The “concept” of III? Send the Turtles to Japan, ancient feudal Japan, the birthplace of ninjas (and, arguably, disgusting mutation). This isn’t a horrible idea, as that’s an interesting period, and a pertinent setting for the Heroes in a Half-Shell. Too bad there are no ninjas in III, which is instead a by-the-books undemanding time travel story – which doesn’t even take advantage of that element! (Witness the totally tubular “Turtles in Time,” a videogame who’s alliterative subtitle was co-opted by III for its 2002 DVD release, which uses time travel more fully, to send the Turtles to: the dinosaurs, the pirates, the Old West, and three different futures.) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III is the worst thing its premise could yield.


And it doesn’t help matters that Jim Henson Studios has dropped ship, meaning the once-proud Turtle suits are replaced with patently fake and unexpressive monstrosities of design. (Master Splinter’s is even worse!) Check out the painted-on green splotches! Check out the complete death of martial arts prowess behind the suits! Check out…an actually decent voice cast, especially as Mike and Leo are the same as ever: Robbie Rist and Brian Tochi. Raph is now Tim Kelleher, because they’ve given up on this character. And for the first time since the first, Donny is voiced by Corey Feldman, now struggling to recover from his heroin binge, doing horrid films like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III rather than interesting films like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Meanwhile, it’s 1603 in Japan. Generic warlike shenanigans are afoot, presented as though it somehow matters now in 1993 (it doesn’t). Stuart Gillard does not effectively think four-dimensionally. Here in Norinaga Castle is the eeeee-vil warlord Norinaga (Sab Shimono, the voice of Mr. Sparkle), who is – let us guess – waging some unclear war against unclear rebels, meaning Gillard once saw Star Wars. Recently banished is his rebel-siding son Kenshin (Henry Hayashi). Most importantly, as a testament to how much III has sunken even from The Secret of the Ooze, the true baddie is a Brit, Walker (Stuart Wilson). In a lesser version of his Mask of Zorro role, Wilson (er, Walker) is intent upon winning Norinaga’s war, which will grant him…I’m not wholly sure, but Walker does cackle enough so we’re sure he is villainous. And Walker has guns, the sole reason for his threat. Walker’s a fairly camp, effeminate villain, one hell of a significant downgrade from the Shredder, in a time when we should be getting the combined forces of Dimension X!

More, plenty more to say on Japan anon. Most of the filmmakers’ budget was shattered on substituting Oregon for Asia, like many an unadventurous Californian before them, meaning New York City – the New York City that is the Turtles’ only stomping ground – is limited to their one pre-built sewer lair, a stock shot of the skyline, and a purposeless reshoot in a dance club.

Limited to this one set, where the Turtles dance around like sitcom characters, it’s no wonder characters like April O’Neil (Paige Turco) simply come and go in the manner of Kramer. And like a final season episode of a bad ‘60s sitcom, April arrives bearing a magic scepter, attained for unjustifiably arbitrary reasons off screen. This is the film’s most important prop! By this the Turtles shall travel back in time, the only thing we’ve been promised by this film, and yet…

The tyranny of the First Act delays that, even while the Turtles have zero story otherwise. Instead, Kenshin comes to the “present” (that is, 1993), and April goes to Japan. By magic. They switch clothes, which gets around the whole Terminator naked thing OK, and their clothes switch body type conveniently enough. Also convenient, Kenshin now speaks English, so – Hey, maybe it’s another magic-induced plot-enabler!...No, wait, Donny’s just technobabbles out that of course all 1603 Japanese spoke perfect, 20th Century English, because the barest few of them knew some British imperials. Guys, you’ve already invoked ass-arbitrary magic, use it!

Hence April is also able to casually converse with her captors, who put her in a dungeon. The reasoning here being that the same thing once happened to Princess Leia.

The Turtles at last have a quest: go back in time, get April, return. Simple enough, and that danged scepter doesn’t even have any qualifiers to it like “get up to 88 mph.” Of course, for lamely dramatic reasons never explained or later referred back to, Donny determines a random “space-time continuum” 60 hour time limit. Er? I doubt Gillard knows what “space-time continuum” means. He surely doesn’t know what the sentence “If I subtract the cosine from the inverted integer, then I can take the flanjular” means, except it sound smart, “sounds” being the closest Gillard can get. Donny does not fare well in this entry.


“It’s equal mass displacement,” which at least is a sensible bit of technobabble. That means as the Turtles go back, they are replaced by four samurai (who do not speak English, for the sake of a subplot to mirror Napoleon’s in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure). Four samurai who are not nude, as is the Turtles’ wont, but rather in fuck-off big diapers, so – Bye-bye, logic!

And in Japan, the Turtles (now clad as samurai, at least), instantly foul up their meager task. They are split up that very minute, partly due to a sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-Seven Samurai battle. Mike alone falls in with the rebels, and the ever-precious scepter is just completely lost. That gives this plot somewhere to go once the “save April” bit has been accomplished. Because Gillard wants us to care about the drama of rebels vs. warlords, for as predetermined as the outcome must be.

(Never once do they address the Back to the Future concerns about tampering with history, or throwing off time, or any of the reasons you actually make a time travel movie – eh, that or just showing a whole hell of a lot of different settings. No, time travel’s just an excuse to get the Turtles in an under-realized Japan, so – What were they trying to accomplish with this?!)


Rescuing April is pretty damn easy for the remaining Turtle trio, never mind she’s deep in the heart of Norinaga Castle, itself the ostensible final stage. One reason for the Turtles’ ease: in the film’s one clever conceit, everyone thinks there are Kappas – you know, Japanese demons in the form of turtles. Gillard actually knows something! This terror leaves enemies unwilling to actually battle the ninjas, depriving III of the need to construct “oh so violent” action set pieces for its action heroes. It also robs us of the one and only chance ever to see ninjas vs. pirates actually play out, for what are Walker’s greasy Caucasian thugs if not pirates? The missed opportunities just abound!

Ignoring the Turtles’ shared incompetence, this is the point where the story should end, if they still had the scepter (and Mike). Rather, off the Turtles go to wander aimlessly in the forests of “Japan.” With them is a bearded mook named Whit (Elias Koteas), whose actor you’ll no doubt immediately recognize as the guy who plays Casey Jones – who is also in this entry, again, and no, there’s no reason for this double role, as they’re not even ancestors or anything. It’s just a way to give Koteas screen time, even while Casey’s subplot sees him sewer-sitting samurais.

The Turtles meet rebels, the Turtles fight rebels, the rebels see that the Turtles are turtles (that took a long time), the rebels invite the Turtles back to their cheapo village. Except…

It’s on fire! This is Walker randomly spreading his villainy about, sans purpose, meaning…either the rebels’ hideout is already known, meaning why’s this war even still going on, or the coincidences are just piling up like so much rat caca. And since we’ve just concluded one of several poorly choreographed fight sequences, what’s one more?


The Turtles have a second match against Walker and his pirates in this setting, the Turtles’ victory again coming about through a combination of fear and tomfoolery. Deprived of their ninjitsu approach, the Turtles rather subject their victims to a volley of dated pop cultural references (mostly westerns, for some damned reasons having to do with Gillard’s uncreativity and refusal to do research). Their banter feels now like a Wayne’s World rip-off, odd considering Wayne’s World was originally riffing on late ‘80s banter the Turtles had pioneered. This crap is stupid and childishness. It’s thoroughly inoffensive, perhaps as a sop to the whiny parental beasts who critiqued the earlier entries, but it denies us everything a lad wants from the “Turtles.”

Now all four Turtles are reunited. The movie is briefly elevated (as am I) as Paige Turco graces the screen with her gams (“Leg-o-rama!”). This is the best part. And with that scepter gone, and no clue as to finding it (what’s a plot?), Donny sets the Turtles about doing the next best thing: making a brand new scepter. Apparently, the theory goes, something with the same shape will ergo have the same magical properties. (More choice Donny “smart” dialogue: “Let’s see, the square root is –”) Of course, I thought all this was perhaps a scheme to later switch the fake scepter for the real one, but I’m smarter than Stuart Gillard. Instead the fake scepter is made, then immediately broken. So what was that all about?

It turns out the rebels had the real scepter anyway, due to plot convolutions I’d rather not get into. So everyone simply looked stupid in the interim, to no end. So now the Turtles can go home and – Of course not. This is the point where they’re supposed to feel for the rebels’ plight, and offer to selflessly mess around with history first. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III, you have not earned such emotional investment! Rather, thank Yoshi, Whit proves to be a bad guy (that is, a white person), and steals the scepter for Walker and/or Norinaga. So the scepter’s over at Norinaga Castle, which was easily broken into before, so I don’t see what a big deal this climax will turn out to be.


No, wait, Walker has guns! Oh my, GUNS, he’s the greatest supervillain ever! (Of course, guns being totally nonexistent in 1993, apparently.) And apparently he’s “more dangerous” than ever, as Norinaga has just given him the okay (and the gold) to use guns, whereas…Isn’t that what they just used at the village? Where the Turtles handed them their asses? I fail to see the threat.

But wait!, here comes Norinaga with a new development. See, here’s this scroll, from even more ancient times, and upon it…the Ninja Turtles?! What the?! It seems in the past, four “Kappa” overthrew a different generic warlord, as ‘tis prophesied they’ll do again. This is a most inept detail, as there are two possible explanations: Either a further sequel will show these same Turtles going further back in time, still in Japan (dream on, filmmakers!), or mutant ninja turtles simply existed in ancient Japan, completely negating the ooze premise. Either way, this makes the baddies even more scared of the Turtles, so…way to stack the deck in the wrong direction.

Oh, and the rebel leader Mitsu (Vivian Wu, The Last Emperor, The Joy Luck Club, The Pillow Book…this movie) has been kidnapped – because she’s a female. Since April’s First Act plot utility is complete, they gotta rescue Mitsu now too.


The Turtles sneak into Norinaga Castle with even greater ease than last time, seeing as everyone is now deathly afraid of them, and they also have Mike. The underwhelming fight sequence to end all underwhelming fight sequences breaks out, and Raph references the Addams Family, seeing as The Addams Family was a movie in 1991 (and Addams Family Values in 1993). Okay then.

Without dilly-dallying, let’s see how the “climax” between the dread Walker and our four Turtles plays out. Basically, Walker’s men surround the beasts (with guns), and are about to shoot them. Until –


Leo bluffs this great big rigmarole about how they’re demons and yadda yadda. Angered, Walker does a dumb, dumb thing. Rather than having forty men shoot them, he alone shall. With that phallic cannon he loves so. And we’re supposed to be more concerned? All seems lost for the Turtles when they remember, just as at the end of Ooze, that, oh yeah, they’re turtles! (How do they keep forgetting this?) This means, apparently, the power to duck a cannonball, aimed stupidly at Leo’s head rather than his torso. That’s “head-down-the-shell” ducking. Somehow this re-terrifies Walker’s ineffective pirate soldiers, who flee with Norinaga’s army for the hills, never to be a threat to Japan again (sure). They could’ve still just shot ‘em! This movie is so biased towards its heroes, it’s not even funny.

Then Walker climbs the castle’s ramparts, and dies like many a Disney villain by falling off a cliff due to his own damned foolishness. Let us never have blood on the Turtles’ claws, of course, lest that send the wrong message. (In an unrelated note, England actually censored the Turtles because the word “ninja” is in their name. England has the most arbitrary censorship laws.)

One war over and one man dead, the Turtles now have the scepter and the freedom to return home and –

Never mind, Michelangelo is staying. Now, where did this 11th hour character arc come from?! Well, because in Japan, the Turtles are heroes, gods, surely one of the less strange things the country has seen (have you seen the Turtles’ anime there?!), whereas in New York they’re treated like common C.H.U.D.s.

In theory I respect the notion to give Michelangelo character moments like this, but the proper point for that is anywhere except the very end of the movie. As it is, this just drags out the inevitable conclusion – Never mind Mike’s selfishness that a samurai is banished to 1993 if he decides to stay. For to no one’s shock, in the end the four Turtles return to their stage-bound sewer home, as ancient Japan flourishes as a Walker-free paradise. Let’s ignore the still-pertinent issues of society-wide ostracization Mike brought up, for one ending joke apparently clears all that away.


There are some opinions that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III is the end of the franchise. There are others (like myself) who’d prefer that it were not a part of the franchise, seeing as it has nothing to do with the Foot Clan, nor the Shredder, nor even anything the other movies concerned themselves with. It simply plugs the Ninja Turtles into a thoughtless time travel story that’d make the folk behind A Kid in King Arthur’s Court blush. The only joy in that is the willful anachronism of surfer slang in ancient Japan – though surfer slang would be an anachronism most anyplace. There’s no ninja goodness, which is a serious oversight. There’s nothing to strengthen the Turtles’ story, despite the chance Japan provides. No fighting, no intelligence, no interesting time travel (Leo thinks dying in 1603 prevents their births in…by their ages, I’d wager 1975 – and this really misinterprets the notion of paradox).

Curse this movie straight to the pits of hell! Maybe it didn’t singlehandedly kill the “Turtle” phenomenon dead in its shell, but it surely did it no favors. The superior TV show rattled on until 1995, surely a good 8-year life span for such an endeavor. More “Turtle” programs came out, such as the terrible live action “The Next Mutation” no one knows of, but the movies were done for. The “Turtles” basically entered a lengthy dormancy period, left behind by the children who’d grown up. Strong “Turtle” nostalgia exists, which fuels 21st Century franchise reboots, but that takes a time to get going. A lengthy “off” period is necessary for most franchises of this sort, and that’s just what III had allowed.


Related posts:
• No. 1 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)
• No. 2 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze (1991)
• No. 4 TMNT (2007)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, No. 2 - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze (1991)

The Turtles are back! With a scant year turnaround, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles got its sequel in March of 1991, at the absolute peak of Turtle Mania. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze, lugubriously awesome subtitle and all, takes advantage of its predecessor’s achievements, utilizing the same masterful Jim Henson bodysuits. The Turtles are already taken care of, established, so Ooze’s doubled budget can go towards expanding and correcting any oversights from Part One. Most of the work done, new director Michael Pressman (of 1977’s The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training) rather delivers a lighter, more audience-friendly Turtles.


A common fan criticism of Part One, as much as anyone is even allowed to question anything Turtle, is that the film sides in tone with the comic book rather than the TV show. Comic creators Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird enjoyed much more influence over the film series than the TV/toy line, so even acquiescing to fans’ demands, there is only so far Ooze can travel out of the “grounded” ninja universe. So no Technodrome, no Krang, an absolute refusal to inject any more elements from the show. Besides, the Turtles’ personalities (and headband colors) are already as much credit to the show that Eastman and Laird are willing to give.

The other issue with Part One, on account of spineless crybaby sissy parent groups the nation over, is its violence. As a major detriment to Ooze, the exciting ninja action of the first is thus dropped for something a lot lighter, a lot more slapstick, a lot closer to what 3 Ninjas would someday puke out (but still a whole lot better…). The Turtles’ introductory fight scene, against a posse of pantyhose-headed thugs, invokes much bizarre “comic” prop-fu, replacing a bō with yo-yo, nunchakus with sausage links, and doing absolutely nothing with the potentially-deadly katanas.

This change in tone at least benefits a couple of the turtles, Michelangelo and Donatello, whose light-hearted personas were buried in the first film’s darkness. For once, Donatello’s tech-savvy ability to type on a computer (considered a superpower in 1991) comes in handy. Raphael, on the other turtle-hand, has basically nothing to do now, as Ooze has no use for his formerly angsty ways.

Perhaps that is the reason for the loss of Josh Pais as both Raph’s body and voice and soul (now it’s Kenn Troum and Laurie Faso and none at all, respectively). Otherwise the Turtles’ voices remain the same – Brian Tochi as Leo, Robbie Rist as Mike, Adam Carl as Don…Wait up! That’s new; Corey Feldman voiced Donny before! For the Feldster had suddenly entered the “washed up and stoned” portion of all former child actors’ careers, and no one wants a Turtle with a heroin addiction! A pizza addiction, however…

One final bit of Turtle-related casting: As thanks for his brilliant performance as Donatello’s body in Part One, Ernie Reyes, Jr., is given the suit free role of “token human” Keno, pizza delivery boy and martial artist (and subject of the Turtles’ opening scene rescue). This role filled, Casey Jones doesn’t once step in Ooze. Odd, since he’s the one who actually killed the Shredder previously, operating the garbage crusher and all.


April O’Neil, however, is still around, though now she’s played by Paige Turco. (Is there any actorly consistency?!) The Turtles are still crashed at her pad, this story taking place presumably scant days after Part One. And of course there is always Master Splinter (Kevin Clash, vocals), who resembles Yoda more and more every day – result of the same character type and puppetry approach. Whilst debating a return to a new home in the lovely sewers of NY, Splinter launches into a helpful expository lecture, for those coming in late. If somehow the Ninja Turtle premise escapes you, this is all the justification they’ll grant – exposition from a gigantic mutated rat.

We (re)learn of the Foot Clan, how the Turtles kicked Foot butt. And about how the Shredder died –

The Shredder is alive (Francois Chau now)! No reason given, beyond the fact it’s a sequel. Only one thing rests on old Shred Head’s, er, head: Revenge on the Turtles! Rebooting the Foot, and chief thug Tatsu (genuine samurai badass Toshishiro Obata), we forget about world domination, or criminal omnipotence, or any of that; all the Shredder wants is the death of four big reptiles.

Events get started with a newscast from April, who is apparently allowed to follow ad nauseum whatever story she damn well pleases at any time. (And openly discuss the Turtles on air – What sort of a reporter is April?!) Today it’s ooze news, as she milks exposition out of Professor Jordan Perry (David Warner, the bad guy in TRON, Time Bandits, Time After Time…), who is very emphatically not Baxter Stockman! (Even if the Professor is a good guy in Ooze, no reason we can’t sow the seeds for future sequels, right?) Anyway, the Professor oversees Techno-Global Research Industries’ massive disposal of ooze, ooze from 15 years hence, ooze which is currently mutating dandelions into massive papier-mâché props.

(“Ooze,” by the way, is the official term for this green-glowing material, of the sort omnipresently indigenous to the ‘80s, alongside slime, goo, gel, muck, sewage, toxic waste, Troma movies, the whole of Nickelodeon’s output from 1981 through 1985. Rather knowingly, note Leo’s correction “It wasn’t slime, it was ooze!” Distinguishing radioactive semen types was serious business back then!)


The Secret of the Ooze purports to reveal dread new discoveries about the Turtles’ origin-by-ooze. The big reveal: the ooze came from TGRI! And the company is responsibly trying to clean up their oozing mess now, so there’s not even any great conspiracy! It’s all rather anticlimactic, so obviously so that Donatello even laments this fact on screen when the time comes. (The Professor’s explanation waits for a good 70% of Ooze, so it is detrimental there’s nothing more to the Turtles’ chelonian origins.)

Ah hah!, but the Shredder knows of ooze too! Ooooooooooze! He learns of it when a minion returns with one of those big-ass dandelions. This is diametrically opposed to the Shredder’s original orders (just follow April a lot), but it’s also smarter than his orders. Repeatedly, the Shredder seems to have the stupidest notions of anyone in this picture, leaving the Foot to foot his villainy. So it’s only at a lowly henchman’s suggestion that the Shredder takes an interest in the ooze’s mutagenic properties, and sends his Foot afoot on an ooze cruise.

Hence the Turtles and Foot Clan appear at the TGRI labs at the same time (an amusingly cheap set, like a Chuck E Cheese’s). They battle over the lone remaining canister of ooze, passing it around like a game of Foot-ball. Get it?! Ooze’s lighter, fluffier Turtles “surf” the office chairs, as they add a little Three Stooges to their ninjitsu. Then Tatsu gets his hands on the ooze and actually screams aloud “Ninja vanish!” The Foot beats foot and run, ooze in the Foot’s hands.

Using the kidnapped Professor as his guide into the wonderful world of ooze, the Shredder seeks to create his own monsters to battle the Turtles – ‘cause there’s nothing else a criminal mastermind can do with 2 pints of plot juice. Now, these new beasts are central to Ooze, even though Eastman and Laird fought tooth and nail against the addition of mutants, despite mutation being the premise of their comic! But it doesn’t matter, for after a long, dramatic King Kong reference, the Shredder opens his cage to reveal…


Actually, that’s not the case. It’s just what should have happened. Instead we get…


A snapping turtle and a wolf, Tokka and Rahzar. This was Eastman’s and Laird’s compromise, so determined were they to deny fans what they wanted in Bebop and Rocksteady. The result is a lame neither-nor, though at least another boss fight in “Turtles in Time.” But in defense of Tokka and Rahzar, they are voiced by Frank Welker. That’s Frank “every cartoon ever made” Welker, the highest-grossing actor of all time!

Here’s an example of the Shredder’s villainous idiocy: Upset that his creations are babies (“Mommy!” they cry), he intends to simply murder Tokka and Rahzar without a second’s consideration. It’s only the intervention of the Professor, a good guy, which saves the creatures. So we can all thank him for the future trouble the Turtles must face.

For now, though, the Turtles are busy seeking a new lair, April having booted them out as the pizza-scarfing wastrel layabouts they are. They ultimately discover Ooze’s centerpiece set, an abandoned subway station complete with stained glass and warm, inviting lighting. Our heroic ninjas thus play Martha Stewart, and set about fixing the place up.


Well, Mike and Leo and Donny do. Raph, as the only proactive member of his team, takes his one and only Ooze-based sabbatical, teaming up with Keno to infiltrate the Foot Clan. Keno undergoes the gang’s initiation tests, to see if the Foot fits. The last test, to silently remove bells from a dummy in the dark, falls to Raphael to complete, it out of Keno’s skill set. Presumably this means the whole Foot Clan can do this, which is hard to swallow.

Raph follows the Foot’s steps back to the Foot locker, that junkyard the Shrekker resurrected in and hasn’t since bothered to leave. But then Raph is captured, as Keno runs off to warn the other three reptiles.

So Mike, Leo and Donny now arrive in the junkyard, and they are captured! (This sequence is entertaining, with good running gags, but sort of desultory.) The Shredder prepares a Saw trap with which to make delicious turtle soup, when Master Splinter arrives to free his pupils, then vanish for the whole remainder of the film. “Cowabunga!” he at least says.

Another Turtle-based fight scene breaks out, with Tokka and Rahzar entering into battle for the first time. It seems the Foot has the upper hand! It’s too much for the Turtles, who beat a hasty turtle retreat back to the warm, protective embrace of New York’s sewers, dragging the Professor in tow.

Re-ensconced in the subway, the Professor techno-babbles on about “ooze this” and “ooze that” and “ooze on first” and the “de-mutagenation process” and whatnot else. Thank Yoshi that Donatello is there to translate the Professor’s needlessly verbose loquaciousness into something the kiddies can understand. Basically the solution to Tokka and Rahzar is this: to feed them specially-made anti-ooze, and reverse the mutation process. (I think I’ve seen this plot in some “X-Men” storylines.) The anti-ooze must be eaten. Good thing it’s not a suppository!

The Shredder calls out the Turtles, threatening to let his new pets run rampage. (Two unstoppable monsters at his beck and call, and all the Shredder can conceive of is just killing the Turtles already. And even this scheme is hatched by someone else, Tatsu, because the Shredder is surprisingly incompetent.)


The Turtles meet for a showdown at the construction site next to the discotheque next to the docks, meaning three fight sequences to go. They even bring donuts, which was mighty generous of them…No, wait, these donuts are for Tokka and Rahzar, a chance to slip these oozehounds the pill. I’ve tried the same thing with my mom’s cats, and believe me it doesn’t work. The same is the case for the Turtles, who must instead fight the Foot, and Tokka, and Rahzar, and Tatsu, and the Shredder, and – well, that’s it, actually.

Onward – to the discotheque! This is the stage where Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze earns its infamy, for presiding over the crowded dance floor is none other than…Vanilla Ice (as himself)!


Robert Matthew Van Winkle (the Ice) was a white rapper back in the day when that phrase sounded even stupider than it does today. Here the flat-topped freak appears at the height of his “Ice Ice Baby,” Madonna-humping, Cool as Ice days. And everything the Turtles stand for dies a sudden and ignoble death. And it’s entertaining as hell.

One of the central notions of the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” in all their forms is their removal from society, on account of them being 15-year-old mutated turtles who know ninjitsu (that old sawhorse). Like Hellboy or the Men in Black or roughly 50% of all other superheroes, their success depends upon remaining a secret from the public at large. So here they are, fighting two miniature kaiju in a thumping dance club, its patrons too coked out like Corey Feldman to realize something is up.

In order to prevent panic, Vanilla Ice and the V.I.P. (Vanilla Ice Posse) heroically decide to hide the Turtles’ identity – by composing a rap! An ad hoc, on-the-spot “Ninja Rap” filled with plot-specific knowledge – all this to make the Turtles seem a part of the club’s obviously-ridiculous show. Oh, and with pre-choreographed dance moves, of course, and so many other elements which rather shatter the illusion that The Secret of the Ooze is anything more than an advertisement for itself.

Ninja, Ninja, RAP! Ninja, Ninja, RAP!
GO GO GO
Go Ninja, Go Ninja, GO; Go Ninja, Go ninja, GO!
Go Ninja, Go Ninja. GO; Go Ninja, Go ninja, GO!
GO GO GO GO

“They’re breakdance-fighting!” as Mugatu would say. Fueled by the almighty power of rap, the Ninja Turtles successfully de-mutate Tokka and Rahzar. Triumphant, they take to the stage alongside the Ice, like something out of “Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation.”

Of course, the Shredder shreds this little love-in. For he retains the last remaining drops of delicious ooze, upon which he sups most heartily, becoming…

A SUPER SHREDDER!


Somehow, no one in the club even notices this! But the Turtles do, facing down their nemesis on the docks – a nemesis they couldn’t defeat in human form, now roided out like Bane in Batman & Robin. They clearly cannot defeat him, but that still leaves the Super Shredder’s worst enemy: the Super Shredder.

In a characteristic moment of not thinking at all, the Super Shredder collapses the pier down upon himself, which somehow results in his unquestioned, canonical death, even when garbage compactor crushing couldn’t do it. Good thing the Turtles didn’t have to have a hand in his demise, keeping this film family friendly and toothless. And their survival? At the last minute they remember what’s been glaringly obvious all franchise long: the Turtles are turtles! Hence they can swim, unlike…humans?

So the Turtles are victorious one way or another, and chart toppers at that! Master Splinter isn’t all that pleased, so instead he just “makes” another “funny,” and all is well.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze is a compromised film, pulled in too many directions by the many diverging facets of the greater “Ninja Turtle” franchise. Compared to the singularly-focused Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, it cannot help but look inferior. Its box office bears that out, as the second was the thirteenth highest-grossing that year, second to the first, which was fifth – see?

Still, 1991 was the peak of Turtle Mania, hence the movie made merchandizing on top of the multitudinous Tortuga-esque Turtle toy tie-ins tantalizing tykes at the time. Maybe that explains Tokka and Rahzar, for it allows new toys where adding in Bebop and Rocksteady wouldn’t. Nonetheless, the greatest bit of Ooze merchandising was Royal Gelatin Desserts’ “Ooze” based custard treat – Yummy!

One imagines eating “Ooze” today would be a sickening experience, as time will have rendered its suspicious ingredients rancid. The same goes for Ooze, with Vanilla Ice in particular saying “This movie was released on March 22nd, 1991.” Ooze still remains an interesting artifact, and nothing involving the Turtles can ever be truly bad…right?


Related posts:
• No. 1 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)
• No. 3 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III (1993)
• No. 4 TMNT (2007)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, No. 1 - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)

This is childhood. For many, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (or simply the Turtles) were both inescapable and beloved. This is a true franchise, beyond mere movies…an all-encompassing media empire that at its height ruled every outlet. Let’s see what there was…comic books, toys, video games, TV shows, food tie-ins, trading cards, clothing, concerts, themed attractions and, yes, the movies. As the ‘80s transitioned to the ‘90s, the Turtles were everywhere, a perfect action-adventure team for the kiddies, and a perfect product to siphon their parents’ money.

It seems redundant to explain who the Turtles are. They are four humanoid turtles, mutants in fact – formed from green radioactive waste, if you must ask – famed for both their ninjitsu mastery and their teenage demeanors. Really, it’s all in the title. They live in the sewers of New York with their sensei rat, Master Splinter, and battle the Shredder, an evil overlord who plans to do…something with his Foot Clan, Technodrome, Krang, Bebop and Rocksteady, any number of other things which can be turned into toys. Named after some of the great Renaissance masters, the Turtles include boring leader Leonardo (blue, katanas), hotheaded Raphael (red, sais), gadget whiz Donatello (purple, bō staff), and dated but awesome surfer dude Michelangelo (orange, nunchaku). What, no Botticelli?!


…Actually, in retrospect I guess this is a bit stranger than I’d once thought – though it’s hard to look at the Turtles without nostalgia glasses. But there’s a good reason for the titular reptiles’ oddities…

They’re supposed to be parodies! Created as an independent, stiflingly low-budget, black & white, self-published comic book by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, the Turtles were meant as an amalgamation pastiche of notable comic trends of the early ‘80s: basically, “Daredevil,” “New Mutant,” “Cerebus,” “Ronin,” many of these I’m not nerdy enough to recognize.

With a very limited run, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” wasn’t meant as anything more than a one-off – until the comic grew in popularity, for indefinable reasons having to do with the Turtles’ innate awesomeness (also radicalness, bodaciousness, etc.). In 1986, success began for the “Turtles” the only way it could for an ostensibly-children’s property at the time: it became a toy line. Playmate Toys wished to go the “Transformers” route and put together a line of action figures, with a TV show to advertize them, toys to advertize the TV show, it’s all a great little Ouroboros . But we don’t care for artistic integrity, for no one badmouths the Turtles! (I for one always preferred the “Turtles” to the somewhat earlier “Transformers.” I was also the sort of boy who wanted to be a dinosaur, not a truck, those being a boy’s only two early life options.)

The 1987 animated series, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” is what the Turtles are best known for, to this day (for me). For one thing, it defined the “Turtle” universe in far more expansive terms than Eastman’s and Laird’s comics – For a so-called “parody,” it’s a little strange that the serious cartoon show is actually funnier. Some of the ideas the show spearheaded: “cowabunga,” Heroes in a Half-Shell, Turtle Power, the love of pizza, Krang and Baxter Stockman and the Rat King and basically all the other enemies not having directly to do with ninjas.

The show ran for the better part of a decade, and was enormously influential on children’s popular culture – witness “Battletoads,” “Street Sharks,” “Extreme Dinosaurs” (ugh, “extreme”!), “Biker Mice from Mars,” 3 Ninjas, Surf Ninjas… Konami’s video games derived directly from the TV series, from the NES’s outrageously difficult first effort, to the blissful SNES “Turtles in Time” (and the arcade). Turtle Mania was everywhere!


It isn’t surprising that a live action movie popped up in this midst. Positing the Turtles in a non-cartoon context, what self-respecting lad wouldn’t want a piece of this?! Curiously enough, the tone 1990’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles takes is quite a bit closer to the original Mirage Comics than to anything from the TV series. Elements are carried over from the show, quite wisely considering most fans would only know the Turtles from that format (and its connected merchandise). So the Turtles retain their totally gnarly, excellent early ‘90s idioms, as well as the show’s brilliant move to give them all distinguishing headbands and personalities.

Otherwise, it’s rather a bit darker than cartoon fans would expect, with an emphasis upon relatively down-to-earth ninja antics (the Turtles and Master Splinter being the sole fantastical elements). This means Foot Clan yes, the Shredder yes, but Krang, Bebop, Rocksteady et al, all gone. In live action, such sci-fi fantasy notions would be much harder to pull off, understandably, but try to picture kids’ dismay at what then appears, in essence, a reduced “Turtle” product. Of course the ninja groove is itself mighty fun.

The most impressive thing about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are the Turtles themselves, which is as it should be. The four are completely practical effects, full-scale humans in suits. It cannot be stressed enough how important that is, how it grounds the Turtles more than any far-flung future CGI ever could. Of course, as ninjas, the Turtles are rather hampered by the capabilities of those behind the suits – they’re slower than usual martial artists. But it doesn’t matter, because they’re the Turtles! And credit to the besuited suit actors, David Forman, Josh Pais, Leif Tilden, Michelan Sisti.

Credit to the Turtle’s also goes to Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, which created fully-mobile animatronic heads atop the world’s most professional quartet of Godzilla suits. It seems a little jerky twenty years later, but these were real, human-sized turtles. It was completely believable (okay, the nostalgia’s gonna be my nemesis with this stuff).

The final piece of the Turtle puzzle: the voice actors. Josh Pais gets the biggest props, for doing Raphael’s body and voice. Others include: as Leonardo Brian Tochi (of Revenge of the Nerds and Police Academy “fame”), as Michelangelo Robbie Rist (Cousin Oliver on “The Brady Bunch,” holy schnikeys!)…and as Donatello – oh, oh…oh my! Corey Feldman! Man, I used to like Donatello! And I’ve said my fill on Feldman before.


The plot of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles isn’t particularly surprising to anyone who immediately understands a write-up of the franchise’s premise. It’s mostly an origin story (as a comic book movie, what other choice has it got?). This allows the characters to meet each other for the first time, and for us to simply bask in the world of the Ninja Turtles.

TV reporter April O’Neil (Judith Hoag) is our window into this reptilian world. At the start, New York is helpless in the grip of a dread wave of petty crimes, mostly electronics robberies and the like. Yeah, the Turtle baddies are the same as the Fast and the Furious goodies/baddies/screw that movie. April’s theory is this is the work of Japan’s ancient secret society, the Foot Clan. Of course it is, they’re a regular “Turtle” element!

Apparent Foot head (heh heh) Tatsu (Toshishiro Obata, martial artist and swordsman and honest-to-goodness descendent of samurai, could this movie get any more awesome?!) demands the Foot stomp out April. About that Foot. Their headquarters (heh heh) is an old warehouse. Their members are the dregs of New York’s disenfranchised teenage population (of the non-mutant, non-turtle kind, and only-provisionally-ninja variety). That element is…morally gonna make this a lot more awkward than the show’s Foot Clan robots. It’s mostly pretty petty, this cinematic Foot Clan, but it is a kids’ film already criticized for its violence. Give ‘em a break.

Rather randomly, look for a young Sam “Iron Man 2” Rockwell as “Head Thug,” bad teenage beard growth and all!

So some Foots (or is that Feet?) descend upon April in the subways. In a scene that’d be just as home in The Warriors, lone-wolf Turtle Raphael (or Raph – yeah, let’s go with that) rescues April. Like any monster of the ‘30s worth his salt, Raph’s next move is to carry the unconscious young woman back to his secret chamber. While we’ve already seen the Turtles previously, this is April’s big Turtle introduction, aided by Master Splinter (voice of Elmo itself, Kevin Clash) in a suddenly expository mood. Origin come of ooze, a rat trained baby turtles the knowledge of his former Master Yoshi, a love of pizza and surfer lingo acquired independently, if you grew up in the ‘80s, you know the drill.

April grows to love the Turtles, and vice versa, in a totally platonic way, save for Michelangelo’s creepy stalker jokes. (Mike loses some of the show’s goofiness, in the film’s overall dark tone.) The quartet of reptiles accompanies April to her apartment (see image way far above), as meanwhile the Foot walks into Splinter’s lair, and captures him for their master…

THE SHREDDER (James Saito)!


Old Shred Head’s intro is suitably menacing, and one senses the walking can opener could really do some damage in a non-PG movie. Let us ignore the Darth Vader overtones, which are brazen enough to include a bellowing of “I am your father!” Given physical gravitas, the Shredder is actually more intimidating here than in the show, even stripped of his more pretentious accoutrements. And upon learning of four mostly innocuous mutant turtles, the Shredder knows his duty in life: to randomly persecute those turtles until the end of time. Hell, that works, it’s simple, the Shredder vs. the Turtles – Sometimes a simple plotline can be a blessing.

For the real focus is the Turtles’ life with April, which combines Henson’s puppet artistry with the tenor of a stoner comedy – which would explain a lot about the Turtles. There is some character study, such as it is, directed almost entirely upon Raph. Hell, he’s always been the most interesting Turtle, as Mike and Don are the comic relief (hence underutilized in the movie), and Leo’s just kinda boring. A loner type, Raph angsts for their lost Master Splinter in isolation up on the rooftop. This puts Raph square within reach of a rash of Foot, as the trio of turtle siblings downstairs yucks it up in ironic ignorance.

Until Raph tumbles unconscious down into April’s apartment. The Foot fall in, in time for the film’s centerpiece action sequence. The Turtles fight Foot fools ferociously throughout the unit, and in the antique store below. This allows a mighty amount of prop-fu, as much as those Turtle suits will allow (mobility and stonedness and all). It also sees the Foots wield any number of weapons instantly recognizable from the video games.


So, most of the film’s criticisms at the time were about its violence, surprising considering how watered down it is from the comic form (of which this is mainly an adaptation). But it was advertized as a kids’ film, so the idea of full-blooded physical confrontations could be off-putting to the rainbows and fluffy animal set. Then there’s the word “damn,” with which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles outclasses Gone With the Wind by a magnitude of five (or so)!

Anyway, the Turtles dodge axe blows as April’s home roasts in a blazing inferno, brainwashed underage ninja assassins receiving numerous concussions – It’s a family flick! And despite their mutated, reptilian prowess, the Turtles are nearly done for when –

- Casey Jones bursts through the front door and –

Oh right, I forgot to mention Casey Jones.

See, Casey Jones (Elias Kotias) is himself a masked vigilante type. The guy is taken to wearing an evil hockey mask (should be familiar to Feldman), and is only capable of fighting with sports equipment – hockey stick, baseball bat, cricket bat, golf club, anything the “Turtles’” name can be emblazoned upon. Most importantly, he takes up the slack from the Turtles in the romance department, so April can avoid that icky bestiality issue which lingers over this movie rather worse than the violence.


Okay, so the Turtles and their human buddies retreat to April’s old farm house upstate, which is something I totally don’t remember from 1990. It’s far removed from everything one thinks of when thinking of the Turtles – sewers, basically. At this stage, the Shredder pretty much gives up looking for the Turtles, and the Turtles themselves forget about the Shredder. See, not much with the plot, eh? This is rather a chance for recovery, mostly for Raph. To his already-gnawing anger and loss add helplessness and physical injury, and no outlet for any of this – Wow, this movie is dark! But darkness isn’t a problem, children like that, and there’s plenty of Turtle Per Minute (TPM) to help us through the iffy patches.

Meanwhile, Master Splinter remains in the clutches of the vile Shredder, surrounded by a bunch of eXtreme youths skating their skateboards and practicing their ninja. Splinter meets with the Shredder, and the final key of the rat’s origin story comes out – in flashback. For back in Japan, Splinter’s human Master Yoshi fought with his rival Oroku Saki over the love of a woman and – okay, it’s basically the back story to The Karate Kid Part II. For what is Splinter but another variation on that decade’s assorted ersatz Miyagis, his “profound” wisdom less genuine and more imitative? But Master Splinter is awesome, because he trained the Turtles, and the Turtles are the greatest that which can be thought. … Oh, and Oroku Saki killed Master Yoshi (and the nameless female), and Saki is really…the Shredder! (What, you saw that coming?)


That’s all well and good, but it still leaves the Turtles in their countryside terrarium. Good thing Master Splinter appears to Leo in a meditative state. Then Leo summons his brothers, and all receive their kindly father rat’s final ninja lessons. “The greatest truth of the ninja: Ultimate mastery comes not of the body, but of the mind.”

Thank goodness for that deus ex ratina, for the Turtles are returning to New York! They wish to hunt down the Shredder, notions of bloody revenge stated vaguely enough so this family movie has deniability. It’s not a very strong desire, at any rate, for the Turtles’ first act is to return to their sewer and fall asleep…What?! Do something guys! You know, Turtle Power and all!...

Sigh. I guess proactive Ninja Turtles is too much to ask for, not when there are humans who can take much of the dramatic heft. Anyway, the Shredder reenters the picture as – Okay, there’s this human child I haven’t mentioned yet, Danny (Michael Turney), who gets the bulk of the climactic arc, because apparently human children in the audience cannot identify with the four irascible Turtles they came here to see. So Danny is somewhat bound with the Foot (he’s the one who ratted out Splinter, as it were). But now Danny wishes to do right, to free Master Splinter. He heads back to the Foot’s locker, Casey Jones follows him, as the Turtles sleep snugly.


These humans, then, Danny and Casey Jones, rescue Splinter, as the Shredder learns of the Turtles’ return. Turtles who have resolutely refused to do him any damage! So the Shredder gathers his Foot, as much as he can foot, and invades the Turtle sewer lair he already knows about. And while we get a mighty climactic showdown between our beloved Turtles and all the baddies, it would’ve been nice had the Turtles been responsible for this event in any way whatsoever!

So the plot is light to the point of near nonexistence, as blatant screenwriting tricks (i.e. Danny) have engineered a battle for our heroes. But once the fight is on, it does not matter, for now it’s Turtles kicking Foot, even fighting upon skateboards in the sewer. The brain happily shuts down in the unfiltered early ‘90s radicalness of all this! Awesome, dudes!

At last the Turtles face the Shredder on a rooftop, a test of ninja skills with Master Yoshi’s honor hanging in the balance. The Shredder very nearly makes turtle soup out of our mutated heroes, until…

Master Splinter is there, with a Princess Bride-esque account of the wrongs the Shredder has done him. Splinter vs. Shredder, this ought to be epic like a Yoda fight, and not laughable like an actual Yoda fight. The greatest hindrance is Splinter’s puppetry, as he’s not even a man-in-suit like the teenaged Testudines. This has the chance to be like Kermit’s swashbuckling in Muppet Treasure Island. For while Splinter’s sudden victory is anticlimactic, what could they have done really? And the Shredder dies like so many an unconscious hobo in my neighborhood, crushed inside a garbage truck.


Readopting surfer slang that was itself appropriated from “The Howdy Doody Show,” Splinter coins “cowabunga.” Having “made a funny,” the Turtles embrace to a strangely-tolerable early ‘90s rap soundtrack (headed by M.C. Power and Partners in Kryme). Hold onto that “good rap” distinction while you can.

In fact, hold onto that overall sense of quality, for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is far better than most adaptations of such properties could hope to be. Considering the budget (and this was an independent film), it would be too much to ask for the awesomeness of the Technodrome and its like. Rather, perhaps it was wise to go with the relatively more personal comic book approach, darkness and all. This earns the picture gravity, surely a hard thing for any superhero property prior to the ‘00s. This is perhaps the finest hour for director Steve Barron, with the possible exception of a-ha’s “Take On Me” video. (Turtles and a-ha – the man defined two decades!)

As was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles successful? Do turtles like pizza? Hoo-boy yes it was! With $200 million worldwide, the Turtles were the most successful independent film ever at the time, a fact which surprises the hell out of me. It is a Golden Harvest production, those being the Hong Kong-based guys behind the Once Upon a Time in China and Police Story franchises. So they’re already comfortable with sequels, just what Turtles needs – And could we get some more mutants here, guys?

We end with a sampling of some of the film’s idiomatic Turtle slang, which is either good or bad depending upon your tolerance for nostalgic signifiers:

Dudes, dudettes, awesome, righteous, bossa nova (bossa nova?!), excellent, radical, babe, bummer, shell shock, far-out, bodacious, gnarly, wicked, cowabunga!

Related posts:
• No. 2 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze (1991)
• No. 3 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III (1993)
• No. 4 TMNT (2007)