Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Is the Franchise Reboot You Didn’t Know You Needed
Photo: Nickelodeon
I missed the pizza-box-in-a-sewer boat on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, so I don’t have any connection to or nostalgia for the surreal cartoon team, but thanks to Nickelodeon’s new animated series, Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I don’t need one. I may not be overly familiar with Raphael (Omar Benson Miller), Leonardo (Ben Schwartz, whose standout voice work taps into his cocky charisma), Donatello (Josh Brener), or Michelangelo (Brandon Mychal Smith)—who fight alongside their best friend, April O’Neil (Kat Graham), and their couch potato dad/mentor, Splinter (Eric Bauza)—but Andy Suriano and Ant Ward’s modern take on the oddball 1980s superheroes/terrapin party animals is so instantly singular that I got the gist of the maximalist cartoon without needing a lot of background knowledge.
After a pilot that kicks off with the team obtaining new, magical weapons and facing down an evil that has mutated much of the city (à la Static Shock or The Flash or, well, a lot of superhero shows), the goofball brothers have to learn to work together and navigate their newfound powers in order to stop some nebulously bad dudes with a similarly tenuous connection to their own origin. That’s not even half as crazy as some of the stuff happening in the Arrowverse, so adults shouldn’t scoff at the show’s plotting—even if it takes an energetic eye to take in everything Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles throws at you.
The show’s slimmer, less smooth and rounded take on the turtles makes it a blast to watch while really conveying the “teenage” part of the title. Its wildstyle graffiti and manga-influenced look, with jagged lines and bright secondary colors, give it a flavor that’s definitely oriented towards the cool kids. The chunky elasticity with which the characters move (not like rubbery Looney Tunes or Mickey Mouse characters, operating by the logic of a garden hose, but like the geometric vibrancy of Keith Haring) gives the show a truly urban vibe: This is New York just like Daredevil’s New York is New York. It’s constantly moving, evolving, and absorbing influences. That artistic sense of place carries over to the weirdo mystical worlds where the team’s villains hang, which take from more dystopian cartoons like Samurai Jack, with a healthy dose of Miyazaki-esque organic architecture thrown in for good measure.