People hated it. Honestly, the moment Nickelodeon released those first character designs for Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the internet collectively lost its mind in the worst way possible. Raphael was a hulking snapping turtle? Donatello had a soft shell and a jetpack? Leonardo wasn't the leader? It felt like sacrilege to fans who grew up on the 1987 cartoon or the gritty 2003 iteration. But here is the thing: they were wrong.
The show is a masterpiece of animation.
If you actually sit down and watch it, past the initial "this isn't my TMNT" knee-jerk reaction, you find a show that understands the core of brotherhood better than almost any other version. It’s chaotic. It’s loud. It is visually stunning in a way that makes most modern TV animation look like a PowerPoint presentation. Produced by Andy Suriano and Ant Ward, this series didn't just want to tell another origin story; it wanted to reinvent the visual language of the Turtles.
The Bold Risk of Changing the Dynamic
In every other version, Leo is the leader. He’s the "Splinter Junior," the straight man, the one who keeps everyone in line. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles flipped the script by making Raph the leader. Raph is the oldest, the biggest, and—surprisingly—the one trying the hardest to keep the family together. This change wasn't just for the sake of being "different." It created a brand new narrative vacuum.
What happens to Leo when he doesn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders? He becomes a "face-man." He’s arrogant, charming, and a bit of a disaster. He’s basically a theater kid with a sword. Seeing his journey from a cocky teenager to the tactical genius we see in the Rise movie is one of the most rewarding character arcs in the entire franchise history. It makes his eventual leadership feel earned rather than assigned by birthright.
Then there is Donatello. In most versions, Donnie is just "the guy who does machines." In Rise, he is a chaotic tech-wizard with a massive ego and a genuine need for validation. Giving him a soft shell was a brilliant move—it gave him a physical vulnerability that explained his reliance on high-tech battle armor. He isn't just smart; he’s a "mad scientist" who occasionally hums his own theme music.
Animation That Actually Pushes Boundaries
We need to talk about Flying Bark Productions. They are the studio behind the animation, and frankly, they went harder than they had any right to. Most Western TV animation uses "puppet" rigs to save money. Rise used traditional hand-drawn techniques mixed with digital fluidity that feels like a high-budget anime.
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Look at the fight scenes. They are breathtaking.
The "sakuga" (a term for high-quality, fluid animation sequences) in this show is off the charts. When the Turtles move, they don't just slide across the screen. They blur, they stretch, and they utilize "smear frames" that make every punch and kick feel like it has actual weight. The color palette is neon-soaked and vibrant, pulling heavily from a street-art aesthetic that fits a modern New York City. It’s a far cry from the muddy browns and greys of the 2014 Michael Bay films.
The Myth of the "Goofier" Tone
A common complaint is that the show is too "jokey." Sure, the first season is episodic and leans heavily into comedy. It’s wacky. It features a villain who is a mutant chef named Meat Sweats (voiced by Johnny Rotten, no less). But if you look at the DNA of the original Mirage comics, the Turtles have always been a bit absurd. I mean, they are giant turtles who eat pizza.
The humor in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is fast-paced and self-aware. It’s Zoomer humor before that was even a defined thing. But don't mistake the jokes for a lack of stakes. When the show gets serious—especially during the Shredder arc—it gets dark. This version of the Shredder isn't just a guy in a spiked suit; he’s a demonic, soul-consuming force of nature. The shift from the lighthearted antics of season one to the high-stakes mysticism of season two is a masterclass in tonal progression.
Why the Movie Changed Everything
If the show was the "experiment," the 2022 Netflix film was the "proof of concept."
The movie acts as a bridge for the skeptics. It starts in a grim, post-apocalyptic future where the Krang have won. It’s brutal. It’s sad. And then it throws us back into the present with our "goofy" turtles who are totally unprepared for the horror coming their way.
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The film forces Leo to grow up. It strips away the "magic" weapons the Turtles used throughout the series and forces them to rely on their own ninjutsu. It’s a love letter to the fans who stuck around, and it’s often cited by critics as one of the best animated films of the 2020s. If you haven't seen the show, you can still watch the movie and understand why people are so obsessed with this specific iteration. It captures the "Teenage" part of the title better than almost any other media. They feel like kids. They make mistakes. They annoy each other.
The Tragic Cancellation and Fan Resurgence
Nickelodeon did this show dirty. There, I said it.
They moved it to Nicktoons (the "where shows go to die" channel), cut the second season in half, and basically stopped marketing it. It was a classic case of a network not knowing what to do with a show that didn't fit the "SpongeBob" mold of endless episodic status quo.
But then, something happened.
The show hit Netflix.
Suddenly, a whole new audience discovered the incredible fight choreography and the deep character work. The "Rise" fandom is now one of the most active parts of the TMNT community. They make fan art, they write essays, and they've spent years campaigning for a third season. While a revival hasn't been officially announced for 2026, the cultural footprint of the show has only grown since it "ended."
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What You Should Do If You're a Skeptic
If you grew up with the 80s or 2003 Turtles and you've been avoiding this one, I get it. The change in art style is a lot to take in. But you're doing yourself a disservice if you skip it.
Start with the episode "Bug Busters." It’s an early double-length episode that shows off the scale the show is capable of. Or, honestly, just jump straight to the movie on Netflix. You’ll see the stakes, the animation quality, and the heart.
Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles isn't trying to replace your childhood memories. It’s trying to do something new with a 40-year-old property. It’s a show about a family of misfits finding their footing in a world of magic and mutants. It is bold, it is loud, and it is arguably the most creative the franchise has ever been.
To truly appreciate the series, look for these specific elements:
- The Backgrounds: Notice the detail in the "Hidden City." It’s a masterclass in world-building through environmental design.
- The Voice Acting: Ben Schwartz (Leo) and Josh Brener (Donnie) have incredible comedic timing that feels improvised and natural.
- The Choreography: Watch the way the camera moves with the characters during fights. It’s cinematic in a way rarely seen on TV.
If you want to dive in, the best way is to watch the first few episodes of Season 1 to get a feel for the characters, then skip to the "Shadow of Evil" special to see the plot kick into high gear. From there, the road leads straight to the Netflix film, which remains a high-water mark for the entire TMNT brand.