“Oh no, he’s turning into that opera guy again.”
Justin’s rating: So unrealistic. Everyone knows Santa loathes reptiles.
Justin’s review: If you were a kid in the ’90s and couldn’t get enough of latex-suited turtle-teens spitting out catchphrases and pointedly not using their weapons to kill anything, then you were the sucker demographic for cheap cash grabs like We Wish You A Turtle Christmas. I can’t imagine the crushing disappointment of any die-hard fan back then who literally watched their dreams die over these 20 minutes.
Me? I’m having the time of my life as a haughty reviewer sitting on a throne of jaded nostalgia, whatever that means!
Sporting an alleged budget of $5,000, this special is not so much a story as it is a fraying web of infrastructure designed to link a hip-hop album together. And not a good hip-hop album, in case you needed clarification on that point. It’s the kind of ’80s rap where each rhyme can be seen coming about seven words before it happens.
It’s Christmas eve in a very bright and spacious sewer, and the Turtles discover that (a) nobody bought Splinter a present, and (b) Amazon Prime shipping had yet to be invented. To compound the problem, all of them have been hit by what I presume to be a Thrift Store Ray Gun, because their costumes have regressed terribly:
And with mouths that can barely move, navigating through the eight songs that they have to perform is going to be brutal. Yet even considering that and the rapidly collapsing time frame in which they have to buy Splinter a gift, this special never skips an opportunity to have everyone prance around to reappropriated Christmas tunes. Like, you have ten minutes to get to the store, maybe stop skipping around and posing for the kid percussion band that you immediately encounter aboveground? Run like you got a purpose there?
It bothered me more than it should’ve that none of the Turtles carry weapons in this special. Rather, a couple carry giant white scarves. This is so that one of them can suddenly launch into an opera-style tune in Time Square. That’s got to impact traffic, I would think.
You’ll never guess what they do find for Splinter: A framed dried-out and presumably moldy pizza. I can only imagine how hard the rat’s going to have to work to keep a straight face and spit out, “This is… great… soooo great” to his kids when he opens it.
Speaking of Splinter, words are so inadequate to relay how badly they got his costume here. It doesn’t look like a rat at all. In fact, I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. A puppy mixed with an otter? Cute, yes, but “sage ninja master” not so much.
With the great Splinter Present Crisis resolved, everyone sings some more and the whole deal ends — without a single weapon, a single fight, or even a cameo from one of the bad guys. It’s truly terrible, and that’s the real meaning of a Turtle Christmas!
- That box turtle looks so very lost
- OK, I did like the “Deck the Halls” song
- “Stores are closing and we will be late,” the song goes as everyone walks painfully slow
- Oh, it’s one of those all-kid street percussion bands I’ve heard so much about
- ROLLERBLADE KID
- I really doubt that Splinter already “has it all.” Maybe buy him a nice two-bedroom apartment?
- It’s the “Wrap Rap!”
- What’s Splinter going to do with three skateboards and four manhole covers?
- Wait, why are the kids in the sewer now? Do they get gifts too, or just Splinter?