Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem Review

The Spider-Verse movies cast a long web of shadows over Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem: Those vibrant Spidey adventures and the Turtles’ latest cinematic outing all represent modern reinventions of beloved superheroes that use the freedom of animation to express their stories in ways their live-action counterparts can’t. Mutant Mayhem may be surfing onto the scene in Miles’ and Gwen’s wake, but the broad similarities fall out of focus quickly and, thanks to a punkier, more ground-level approach, Mutant Mayhem – from The Mitchells vs. The Machines co-director Jeff Rowe – is a vibrant, hilarious adventure from which the Heroes in a Half Shell can (and will) build a Turtleverse all their own.

Mutant Mayhem takes the broad strokes of Turtle lore largely for granted, opting for a streamlined introduction to Splinter (Jackie Chan) and his adopted sons: Leonardo (Nicolas Cantu), Raphael (Brady Noon), Michelangelo (Shamon Brown Jr.), and Donatello (Micah Abbey).  From the start, the movie is far more interested in their relationship with Splinter as a father than as a master, with Splinter’s strong prejudice against humans forcing the Turtles to disobey him so they can be a part of the surface world like they’ve always dreamed. Mutant Mayhem makes the simple, yet seismic choice to do what comparatively few adaptations of Eastman and Laird’s comics have done before and lean into the “Teenage” aspect of the Mutant Ninja Turtles. There’s no going back: the infectious, talky banter the 15-year-old brothers generate amongst themselves and others is effortless and quotable, with an unpredictable dark streak that ensures laughs from all age groups.

Seemingly anticipating comparisons to other superhero stories, Mutant Mayhem opts to go with the flow and use that masks-and-capes landscape as the very context in which the Turtles hope to be seen. These are Turtles who know what’s going on in the MCU, and have learned (or been taught) that their abilities are the quickest way to win public approval. It’s that tension between what the Turtles want from the world, and what the world expects from them in return, that sees Mutant Mayhem’s storytelling at its most mature.

But most of the heavy lifting on that score goes to the world-weary Splinter. Jackie Chan’s portrayal of the rodent sensei is a constant source of warmth, with off-the-charts single-dad energy. A flashback covers the necessities of the family’s ooze-fuelled origin, but any of the mutation details therein are completely outshined by the effervescent moments of connection and growth among this sewer-dwelling family. That scene sets up Splinter’s reasonably justified distrust of humans, and the conflict it creates once the Turtles yearn to be where the people are a little more regularly.

The Turtles themselves all end up rallying around a desire to be accepted and loved by humans that doesn’t give them much room to disagree with each other, leaving them more interesting as a group than as individuals. Leonardo, predictably, gets a little more focus on his struggle to find confidence as team leader, but how and why he comes to identify with that responsibility isn’t tracked very closely through the story. That’s not to say that each Turtle doesn’t have a crystal-clear personality, largely in line with what you’d expect of each: Raph’s a rage-filled bruiser, Donnie’s super-smart, Mikey’s a goofball, Leo’s… the leader… but critically, Mutant Mayhem significantly tones down the cartoonish heights of their personalities. None of the Turtles ever feels like he’s trying to copy a version that’s come before – again, huge win there in casting actual teenagers in these roles.

Mutant Mayhem’s art style is perfectly suited to the crackling energy that drives the story forward. The bespoke characters interact with a comparatively realistic New York, and the relationship between the elasticity of the character animation and the more logic-based digital cinematography is a constant reminder of the ways the Turtles stick out in society.  There’s a scribbled, rough quality that reveals finer and finer detail the closer you look, which evokes the movie’s themes of prejudice and tolerance quite subtly. That inventiveness carries across to the action, where Rowe is not going for subtlety, and the Turtles move and strike with every use of their sai, katana, nunchaku, and bo staff accounted for. Mutant Mayhem’s killer visuals are pushed along by an absolute vibefest of a musical score, which I was totally enamored by and then later deeply unsurprised to learn came from the Oscar-winning Nine Inch Nails team of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. It’s a synth-dripping, flame-throwing grungescape that elevates the action and emotion at every turn.

The boundless energy and wonderfully drawn characters make up for a predictable plot, which itself feels like a bit of a mutated amalgamation of other superhero movies. It’s hard to begrudge Mutant Mayhem too much for that – it’s got as much right to celebrate its comics roots as any other superhero movie – but the notion that Everyday, Normal New Yorkers are the real heroes of these movies is losing its impact. And with how grounded the Turtles’ emotional throughline actually is, the world-ending stakes that mutant villain Superfly (Ice Cube) represents isn’t as interesting as whether or not Splinter’s gonna let the kids go to the arcade more regularly by the end of the movie.

Superfly’s mutant henchanimals are the best character designs in the movie, with proportions and rough edges that make them feel like notebook sketches that have burst to life. The mutants are largely voiced by actors in co-producers Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s orbit: John Cena plays the Rocksteady to Rogen’s Bebop, while the earnest enthusiasm for life expressed by Paul Rudd, Rose Byrne, and Hannibal Burress makes the genetic monstrosities they’re playing as endearing as the heroes. Special mention here goes to Byrne as Leatherhead – someone told her “sound more Australian than anyone has ever let you sound” and her performance is so Aussie, it’d make a toilet drain clockwise.

As is custom, the Turtles find an ally in intrepid reporter April O’Neil, and Ayo Edebiri’s self-effacing performance is another bright spot among Mutant Mayhem’s strong voice cast. After stumbling out of the gate with her budding school journalism career, April finds camaraderie with the outcast turtles and Edebiri’s deadpan reality checks keep the Turtles on track as their flights of heroic fancy start to take hold.