2.5 stars. Rated PG-13, and rather harshly, for sci-fi action and violence
By Derrick Bang
I’m not persuaded the world
wanted — or needed — another big-screen adaptation of this trés bizarre comic
book franchise, but we critics must play the hands we’re dealt.
 |
| Having been taken to the underground lair populated by New York's rather odd vigilante heroes, April (Megan Fox) hears their origin story from Splinter (foreground, seated) while the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — from left, Raphael, Donatello, Leonardo and Michelangelo — listen attentively. |
While director Jonathan
Liebesman’s film is a hot gonzo mess, it does benefit from giddy pacing, wacky
humor and a couple of ambitious action sequences. So, yes, young viewers will
have a good time, but their older companions probably will find these
proceedings too weird, too dumb, and much too disorganized.
Nor does it help that the film’s
primary human star, Megan Fox, still can’t act a lick.
From a purely sociological
standpoint, this film demonstrates a fascinating phenomenon: the intangible
nature of credibility. Avid fans who wholly embrace the frivolous sci-fi
nuttiness of, say, Guardians of theGalaxy, nonetheless will be hard-pressed to forgive Liebesman’s take on the
Ninja Turtles. It’s not just the concept; both properties exist in equally
impossible realms, and require a massive suspension of disbelief.
It comes down to tone and
execution. Liebesman’s film is sloppy, its script — credited to Josh Appelbaum,
André Nemec and Evan Daugherty — clumsy and inconsistent. The core premise is
an eyebrow-raiser to begin with, but then the villains, and their scheme for
world domination, are just lunatic. The narrative is slapdash, details
introduced or abandoned at whim.
Original creators Peter Laird and
Kevin Eastman did a far better job with their comic books, back in the 1980s.
Anyway...
In a New York apparently bereft
of Superman, the Avengers or any of the other run-of-the-mill champions, an
über-violent army of thugs known as the Foot Clan have terrorized the city for
months. Nobody seems able to stop them; even the police are helpless, with
“protection” having been outsourced (?!) to a private company headed by
billionaire industrialist Eric Sacks (William Fichtner).
I dunno ... if helpless citizens
are being assaulted, kidnapped and killed as shown here, it seems like the NYPD
might rally a bit, perhaps even request assistance from the National Guard or
some other federal strike force. Doncha think?
Anyway...
Local TV reporter April O’Neil
(Fox), wanting to move beyond the dumb, feel-good features she keeps getting
from station exec Bernadette Thompson (a miscast and shamefully ill-used Whoopi
Goldberg), has been prowling the docks in the hopes of spotting nefarious Foot
Clan activity. She gets her wish, with an unexpected bonus: a Foot Clan
robbery-in-progress is interrupted by mysterious, dark-garbed adversaries who
lay waste to the baddies, and then vanish in the night.
Just in passing, this sequence
takes place during a pouring rain, and yet — in her many close-ups — Fox never gets wet. Her face remains
bone-dry, her hair perfectly coifed, as if awaiting the next magazine cover
photo shoot. Like, what, getting damp wasn’t part of her contract?
Anyway...
April is left with no proof of
this bizarre encounter, so of course nobody believes her, back at the station.
Even her faithful cameraman, Vern (Will Arnett), rolls his eyes.
But the Foot Clan leader, known
as Shredder (Tohoru Masamune), takes this assault on his troops very seriously. Upping the threat
against innocent civilians in an effort to smoke out these do-gooding
vigilantes, Shredder and his second-in-command, Karai (Minae Noji), succeed
beyond their wildest expectations. Along the way, April gets an even better
glimpse of the saviors: four 6-foot-tall turtles in ninja garb — named Raphael,
Michelangelo, Leonardo and Donatello — cracking wise with teenage abandon.
Cue the obligatory origin story,
as revealed by the turtles’ mentor, a giant rat dubbed Splinter (a strange name
left unexplained). In fairness, this back-story is rather clever, particularly
as it involves April’s childhood self, years back, and her frequent visits to a
lab run by her father and — oh my goodness! — the same Eric Sacks.
Oh, c’mon; we already knew Sacks
was suspect. Fichtner always plays
bad guys. Aside from that, Liebesman telegraphs the “big reveal” by having
Sacks be overly solicitous and cheekily condescending at all times. Fichtner
might as well strut about with a sign on his forehead that reads “Not To Be
Trusted.”
Anyway...
Everything builds to several
battles, melees, skirmishes and action set-pieces, the most audacious of which
involves a huge truck and several pursuing all-terrain vehicles, all plunging
down a snowy mountainside, the turtles and various Foot Clan goons ninja-ing
each other, April and Vern hanging on for dear life. This sequence is dog-nuts,
but undeniably exciting, and it goes on for a generous chunk of time; Liebesman,
action director Dan Bradley, and editors Joel Negron and Glen Scantlebury deserve
a bow ... even if the rest of the film pales by comparison.
The impressively athletic turtles
are brought to life via a blend of CGI and motion-capture work with actors;
while the results don’t have near the personality that, say, Andy Serkis
brought to his performance as Caesar in the Planet
of the Apes franchise, these “heroes on the half-shell” nonetheless have
presence, dimensionality and a remarkable range of battle maneuvers. This work
by visual effects supervisor Pablo Helman and animation supervisor Tim
Harrington is augmented by plenty of audacious melees choreographed by stunt
coordinator Jonathan Eusebio.
Unfortunately, all this effort
lives or dies on the basis of the actual “acting” that turns each turtle into a
distinct character, and that’s where this film disappoints most. It’s often
difficult to distinguish one from the other, based on behavior and wisecracks.
(Granted, the different-colored scarves help, but clothing isn’t personality.)
Okay, yes, Raphael is the
tough-talking “bad boy,” and Donatello is the geeked-out tech whiz;
Michelangelo spouts surfer lingo, loves pizza the most, and has the
questionable crush on April; the quieter Leonardo broods under his
responsibility as team leader. (I guess.) These superficial distinctions are
ill-served by the voice talent; Johnny Knoxville brings none of his signature
sass as Leonardo, and the others — Alan Ritchson (Raphael), Noel Fisher
(Michelangelo) and Jeremy Howard (Donatello) — do little to flesh out their
roles.
The usually enjoyable Tony
Shalhoub is unrecognizable as the voice of Splinter, although he deserves
credit for a level of passion absent from the other voice actors.
I’ve already commented about Fox,
who couldn’t deliver a credible line if she sent it via UPS. Arnett, in great
contrast, displays the appropriate blend of laid-back charm and solid comic
timing; it’s a shame he couldn’t have been the turtles’ human liaison.
Fichtner, as always, makes a suitably smug and arrogant villain.
Noji is a blank slate as Karai;
apparently she felt that merely looking tough would be sufficient. It isn’t.
Production designer Neil Spisak
has a lot of fun with the turtles’ underground sewer lair, laden with boom
boxes, pizza-box furniture, a skateboard ramp and a screen-filled console room,
where our heroes monitor the city.
Youthful exuberance covers some
of the script’s deficiencies; as we’re repeatedly reminded, the turtles are
“teenagers” in the emotional sense, and therefore can be excused their failure
to take things seriously. It’s harder to overlook major issues, such as
precisely what prevents all of Manhattan from being saturated with Shredder and
Sacks’ ultra-poisonous gas, after the climactic, tower-top melee.
Or how April manages not to get
mangled and pulped beyond recognition, during that same skirmish and subsequent
multi-story fall to the street below. Which she survives with — once again —
not a single hair out of place. And she doesn’t even have a protective turtle
shell!
Ultimately, this kid-vid with
big-screen pretensions cannot overcome its many limitations. Yes, it’s (mostly)
good-natured fun, and harmless enough. (The PG-13 rating seems excessive.) But
it’s also clumsy, under-developed and ultimately disappointing. Laird, Eastman
and their turtles deserve better.
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