I haven't been keeping up with the resurgent Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as much as I'd like to, though most everything I've seen has been downright fantastic. The new toon escaped its meandering beginnings to become a can't-miss show, mixing enough classic toitle elements in to keep longtime fans happy while throwing enough extra shit at the walls to inspire an entire new generation of young cartoon addicts to make with the ninja power. And, just as it was with the TMNT chapter that began in the late 80s, the franchise's true power lies in its scores of kickass toys.
I've only been collecting here and there, not really dedicated to the cause but nonetheless pulled in by some of the toys' irresistible charms. As my natural need to collect something, anything has drifted away from the toy stores and into old delis and hotel lobbies, I've been afforded a better grasp of what to buy and what to leave on the shelves. I'm an asshole with my money, but I'm getting too old and frequently billed to throw cash out whenever some oddball action figure smiles at me jussst right. The toy we're featuring today is a clear exception -- something nobody can possibly resist. If you were ever into the Ninja Turtles, just try passing this one up...
That's right: Toddler Turtles. Jesus Christ, Toddler Turtles. I first saw these beauties at the most recent Toy Fair expo, but since they were standing amongst 5,000 plastic cousins with much better paintjobs than they'll ultimately have when they hit the market, I wasn't enormously impressed. For one, I never thought Playmates would lump all four of 'em in a single package -- they could've easily gotten away with two double-packs. Nailing the entire foursome for the price of a single larger figure seems more like a bid for loyalty from Playmates than a money making pyramid scheme: this was their little way of telling fans that they really care. It might seem like small shakes, but concessions like this can really make a brand last longer than it would otherwise. Since TMNT is by and large the golden son of Playmates, fans should continue to benefit for a good while: the company just can't afford to have this franchise go south.
Introspectives to Playmates' good graces aside, these Toddler Turtles kick eighty kinds of ass and have made me happier than Splinter when baby Donatello made his first successful somersault. Like the 25th anniversary Optimus Prime, Unicron and rehashed vintage Star Wars crap, the Ninja Turtles have finally added an entry that no self-respecting toy fan (we have self-respect, I swear) can possibly live without. As much as it pained me to release the Turtles from their clever plastic prison where they were guaranteed to look fresh and pretty forever and ever, you've really gotta see the things free ranging to fully understand why you must drop whatever you're doing right now to go out and hunt 'em down...
Come on, admit it -- you need to have these. The figures sort of rewrite the history I knew when it comes to the Ninja Turtles. I always thought they immediately morphed into their rockin' hot teenage bods right after getting doused with the mutagen, but here we see 'em as kids. The wealth of storyline possibilities opened up by this new aspect is unfathomable; hell, there could easily be another new cartoon -- a prequel of sorts -- showing the someday-teenagers learning the ropes of heroism. Splinter (a less fogeyish version with hip pants and dreds) could teach the Turtles how to work sais and throw stars. We could even throw the heroes into preschool, forgiving any continuity interruptions caused by them being out in public with the humans because the plot is just too damn cute to resist. The Turtles would learn valuable lessons in sharing, manners and how to cross busy avenues. Best of all, they wouldn't even have to change the franchise's famous abbreviation, being toddlers with a T and all. If I had even minute confidence that it'd hold up in court, I'd so copyright this idea.
At about three inches high a piece, the figures don't feel "basic" at all. When you're buying a four-pack at this alarmingly discounted rate, you expect a lotta shortcuts. Bad paintjobs, shitty weapons, missing arms yadda yadda yadda. Instead, they're as detailed as the norm for the line, arguably looking even better than their singularly sold older selves. The sculptors of these beasts deserve a free pie -- I can't believe how well they got across the more youthful elements of the Turtles, from their innocent little eyes to the fact that none of their weapons are metal. Splinter adds: "Remember, they're still learning. SCRATCH BITE I AM A RAT."
I'll go into greater detail about the figures' kiddy features in a bit. First, let's see what Playmates has to say about their greatest creation...
Article continued below advertisement: Visit our sponsors to support the site!
To tease and entice the six people who manage to not run directly for the register as soon as they see these things, Playmates lists all of the Toddler Turtles' special nuances on the card-back. The weapons are faithful to the characters (Mikey still has the chucks, etc.), but they've been dumbed down a bit to reflect the fact that kids so often kill themselves when handed deadly ninja weapons. Raphael suffers the most from this change; his trademark sai now appears to be a couple of popsicle sticks glued to a half-eaten sausage jerky rod. Donatello's bo isn't as kickass in this safer form, but at least he can walk onto the set of American Gladiators and appear too prepared for the producers to limit him as a mere spectator. In a perfect world, I'd get to see Baby Donatello wham Nitro off the jousting platform at every five minute interval for all of time. In this world, all I can do is fantasize about perfect worlds. Kinda sucks.
Another neat update (or dedate, whatever you wanna call it) are the Turtles' less offensive full-scalp bandanas. They ain't no clanny kiddies. Playmates then goes apeshit with all of these other allegedly notable features, like the Turtles' "eager expressions," "kick-butt poses," and the ultimate trait, "punch-absorbing way-phat baby fat." You can't hurt 'em! Just you try!
I like how the bio card plays up how often the Turtles used to beat each other up during childhood. They set it up pretty brilliantly, as if the Turtles were only then putting various ninja weapons through their own personal screening processes. At this point, Leo's swords were fair game for Raph, and if Donatello wanted the chucks, all he had to do was kick Mikey in the crotch and yell "MINE."
The card also extends a loose meaning for the word "toddler" -- the Turtles are eight-years-old, not quite babies, not quite shaving. They still live in the sewers -- they've done the sewer thing since day one, so by the time they hit their teenage years, Splinter must've been dealing with four hideously smelling charges to care for. I bet he found solace in knowing that he smelled just as terrible. The Toddler Turtles also present an interesting situation for the toyline, as children are now faced with deciding whether it's fair and just to pit the lil' babies up against all of the assorted rock creatures, three-headed robots and aliens with six ways to kill you. Even the most devoted Turtle fans are going to have trouble letting their Baby Mikey dolls kick the crap out of Shredder. It's too bad the green kids couldn't score some lame gestalt trait and merge together into something more substantial at the first sign of trouble. God that would rock. And rock beats scissors. Scissors are kind of like Shredder, right? So long as none of the other villains associate themselves with paper, we're in for a clean heroic sweep.
I've lost all sense of my planned direction for this article. I may as well switch gears and tell you about the time I spilled scalding hot coffee on my brother and hid under my parents' bed for fifteen hours out of fear. It'd make sense -- I was about the same age as the Toddler Turtles at the time.
Okay, here's the fun part. For me at least. Let's run through each of the Turtles for a closer inspection, and try to determine what they might've been like during these formative years. Cowabungas spoken at a higher pitch, lots of Disney movies, that sorta thing.
Leonardo: As the honorary leader, we've gotta imagine that Leonardo showed many signs of patience, determination and goodwill even during his youth. In this we should also suspect that he was the least popular of the Turtles -- the rest of the crew must've absolutely hated him. Think about it. Raph and Mikey plan to skip out for an R-rated movie...who's gonna tell on 'em? Donatello wants to cook Jiffy Pop when Splinter's not home...who's gonna tell him that Becky wouldn't even let DJ do crap like that? Leo must've been a tattletale and a constant party shitter. Armed only with a wooden sword to protect him from three similarly sized brothers who certainly tried to beat the shell out of him at every given opportunity, Leo's leadership qualities only surfaced when nobody else would volunteer to clean Splinter's toenails. Also: while holding the sword from the other end, Leo looks super religious.
Michaelangelo: Weird thing: Michaelangelo seems to be regarded as the most popular of the group, though everyone I've ever known is quick to name either Raph or Donatello, the latter in my case. During the original cartoon's era, I guess he was the most quotable Turtle, but there always seemed to be this underlined hatred towards him from all of my friends. The party dude shtick wore thin, and frankly, there ain't a person on the planet who'd name orange as their favorite color, and this is what picking a favorite Ninja Turtle really came down to. As a youngin, I still picture Mikey being all brash and daring, albeit in slightly stupider ways. Like, instead of leaping from building top to building top in an effort to chase down a supervillain, Baby Mikey probably does it for no apparent reason. Wielding a less impressive version of his infamous nunchucks, I bet Baby Mikey spent a lot of time laughing too hard to finish a knock knock joke.
Raphael: The...what do they call it, dark horse? The dark horse of the Ninja Turtles, I'm a little intrigued as to what Raph would've been like as a child. I'm used to seeing him as a sarcastic, often brooding pile of green angst. The kind of guy who'd say something really funny and then tell you to fuck off for laughing at it. I've always been of the mind that Raphael found his angry niche during puberty. While all of the kids aboveground were sprouting hair and getting tingly in the groin, Raph was stuck in a river of liquid feces, passing the time by hurling various insults at Leo. As a kid, he wasn't even pissed about having the shittiest weapon yet. Yes, for Toddler Raphael, these were the golden years -- the only time in Raph's life when he could look into a mirror without punching it to death and calling all of the broken shards dickfaces.
Donatello: Come on, everyone loves the Don. I think it was just easy for kids to relate with the character; he was a geek and a hopeless loser just like the rest of us. Instead of climbing the social ladder with a mix of nice clothes and a pot connection, Don was more interested in playing Domino Rally and eating Fruit Wrinkles. During youth, it's easy to picture Donatello spending his time building assorted, useless things. He'd eventually learn how to make functional blimps with his family crest on the side, but as a child, I bet it was more of a case of him finding an empty box and drawing robot facial features on one of the flaps. I also picture him being the least dedicated ninja of the lot -- a bit thicker in the middle, Donatello was probably whiny, sensitive and full of that pink medicine doctors always give to kids who have allergies. Splinter adds: "He is a work in progress, my son." Don's bo carries less offensive capabilities with the ends all puffed up, but at least he can still peg people in the stomach and get an "ow" out of 'em.
There's the full-scalp bandanas. You obviously needed a closer look.
There's Donatello checking out the suspicious holes on Raphael's feet. The joke's on him: Donatello has the very same kind of holes. All of the Turtles have 'em. This is so they can board the conveniently ridden-with-pegs Turtle Van and remain standing even if you throw the thing off a cliff. I'm pretty sure it's covered in one of the TMNT EU guidebooks. The one with Leatherface whipping Genghis Frog on the back cover. I think they sell it on Amazon.
They're fantastic figures. You'll end up buying three or four sets. Maybe a dozen. Soon your house will be littered with Toddler Turtles -- under the couch cushions, by the coffee machine and as rapidly decaying fish tank ornaments. Playmates really went the extra mile to make sure this gets some fence-riders on the bandwagon: it's a good scheme, and I'm sure I'll end up picking up other junk from the line now that I've set a precedent. See what one reasonably priced four-pack can do? Amazing things! Like magnets.
Once you have 'em, you're going to have to decide on a fair method of making the tiny turtlelies battle bad guys. One-on-one battles are a big no-no until Playmates unleashes the Baby Shredder action figure. Nope, you're gonna have to go for team efforts. Team efforts all the way...
I've got no idea who they're attacking, or even what line he's from. Could be the sales meeting version of Gene Simmons, only more naked and ripped. Nobody wears underwear like that anymore.
Okay, I'm out of words. Go buy the Toddler Turtles, you'll love 'em. They put the dorab in adorable. Oh God, do they ever make with the dorab. One love, toddler four.
