In pre-Guiliani New York a walking knife is recruiting yuppie larvae, indoctrinating them into a life of ninja skills and petty larceny. Elsewhere, an ancient Rat struggles to raise his Turtle sons right, teaching them martial arts and astral plane introspection. This is 1990's live action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a fairly agreeable big screen take on Eastman and Laird's merchandise monsters.
Ninja Turtles is at its best in the brief scenes between patriarch Splinter and his grumpy son Raphael, even going so far as to have the angry young turtle sobbing in his father's lap. Throughout the film, the Ninja Turtles are treated by their extended family as boisterous children, hopped up on sugar and e-numbers. The film is better for this, the close-knit mutants contrasting with the lethal all-human dysfunction of Shredder's lost boys. It's a pleasant counterpoint to the usual macho posturing.
Ninja Turtles remains a rather curious film, a licencing opportunity stuck somewhere between aiming for grimy source fidelity and cashing in on the emerging cartoon phenomenon. Incidents of violence hang in the air, lending proceedings a bipolar quality. For the most part the Turtles fight slapstick, pummelling faceless fall guys with comedy props, but there are a few snatches of brutality that hint at a gloomier direction.
Following an unsuccessful attempt on the Turtle's lives, Shredder's enforcer Master Tatsu flies into a rage assaulting his subordinates. One unfortunate pleads with Tatsu to leave a younger boy alone, receiving a flurry of blows for his troubles. The student lies very still indeed, unresponsive as his mask is peeled off. Sourceless ADR states he'll be okay, he's only unconscious. His lifeless staring eyes and Tatsu's glowering unease tell another story.
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