I shall, today,
discuss why the latest, live-action version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles proved such a depression-laden failure
because I suffer from the highly contagious delusion that everyone wants to
hear my opinion about everything.
I want you to understand
where I come from on this one. I grew up on the turtles. I still respect
how well the four characters illustrated the four humors (see older post at
FictionFormula.blogspot.com). I’ll provide more on that in a minute.
I could spend a
lot of my time, and yours, with this discussion, but I’ll narrow it down to the
biggest shortcomings that hammered this movie, and I shall, in the spirit of my
earlier post, “A Critical Look at Criticism,” try to remain as respectful as
possible to the filmmakers.
I remember when I
went to see the first live-action Ninja Turtle movie. While the movie didn’t
stand flawless, I, like most audience members, felt the effort to make a good
movie, the best version of that story possible.
The movie didn’t
talk down to me, insult me with a plot that made no sense and contradicted
itself.
The older movie
advertised Dominos Pizza, sure, but not the way that the new movie shoved Pizza
Hut in your face like a He-Man cartoon
that demand the purchase of its action figures.
Hell, one
character, April, watches her father die two different ways. That couldn’t slip
past the editors. The script supervisor alone likely jumped out of her seat and
threw a tantrum.
The writers knew
that they contradicted themselves and basically reacted with, “The hell with
it. Our audience won’t notice the difference. They all seem like idiots.”
The dumbest, least
informed child on Earth knows damn well that you can’t remove all the blood from somebody’s body and
afterwards bring that person back to life via an Adrenalin injection.
While the original
Turtles movie didn’t venture too deep
moral premise-wise, it still shared a message, it still managed to provide
substance.
The new Turtles expressed nothing greater than a
power fantasy, with giant, muscle-wrapped (and apparently bulletproof) turtles
for “characters.”
Well, Donatello
didn’t possess a lot of muscle. Michael Bay always likes to represent nerds as
weaklings because no one ever pointed out to him that nerds like me flood the
Turtle and Transformer fan base.
The turtles in
this latest movie didn’t even perform anything ninja-ish. They just shoved
people through walls. They also pushed April around, both literally and
verbally. They threatened her through the whole movie.
Worse, April just
smiles and blushes at her mistreatment.
I hate to express
an “old man moment,” but that seems a poor example for kids.
“Hey, little boys.
If you like a girl, shove and threaten her. She’ll love it.”
“Hey, little
girls. Remember, your future boyfriend pushes you around because he cares.”
I hate how badly
the writers screwed up the characters in Turtles.
They originally
casted a white guy for the role of Shredder, realized that that didn’t make a
lot of sense, and decided to split the Shredder and the white guy into two
different characters—and then went ahead and explain anyway how a white guy came
from Japan (which honestly didn’t require much).
Oh, and the real Shredder’s now a robot (or some
damn thing) for no reason.
The turtles
themselves felt flat. I mentioned above how well these four characters
illustrated the four humors. They did it so well that many college, creative writing
professors directly refer to the humors by their turtle equivalents.
Please take note,
future filmmakers, that your Michelangelo character can possess a brain. Think Tony Starks (Banner equals Donatello;
Captain America equals Leonardo, and Raphael equals Thor).
We see these same
characters everywhere. They work wonderfully because their
differences complement each other and
create friction.
Guardians of the Galaxy?
Star Lord =
Michelangelo
Green Chick =
Leonardo
The Destroyer =
Donatello
Rocket = Raphael
(Tree Guy served
as Rocket’s conscience, his Jiminy Cricket if you will)
The new turtles
possessed none of the qualities that come with their humor counterparts.
The new Donatello just
snorts and acts wimpy.
Michelangelo
sexually harasses women.
Leonardo exists.
Nothing more to him.
The writers
performed a halfhearted, last-minute attempt to give Raphael some depth, but it
fell short, just something they shoe-slid in to
create a vapor-thin illusion of substance.
The new Turtles proved a lazy, soulless mess. It
insulted its audience and likely justified it with, “It’s for kids.”
That excuse
shouldn’t fly.
A lot of great movies surfaced while aimed at a
younger audience. These movies addressed real topics and moral premises (see my
review for Big Hero 6 at
moviesmartinwolt.blogspot.com). They didn’t talk down to their audience. I wish
Turtles followed suit.
Thanks for reading.
Daughters of Darkwana received a sweet, succinct
review, which you can read here, http://www.thebookeaters.co.uk/daughters-of-darkwana-by-martin-wolt-jr/
Also,
the third book in my series, Diaries of
Darkwana, will hit Kindle just as soon as I find out what happened to my
cover artist.
I
publish my blogs as follows:
Tuesdays:
A look at the politics of the entertainment world at EntertainmentMicroscope.blogspot.com.
Wednesdays:
An inside look at my novels (such as Daughters of Darkwana, which you can now find on Kindle) at Darkwana.blogspot.com
