GEORGE H. LEWIS

From Common Dullness to Fleeting Wonder:
The Manipulation of Cultural Meaning in the
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Saga

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Heroes must act their ages.
          --MARSHALL FISHWICK: The Hero American Style (1969)

Cowabunga! Let's rock, dudes!
           - RAPHAEL: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Adventures (1988)

   Of all the kid heroes of the past few years, the most popular by far are the Teenage Mutant
Ninja Turtles, who have by now, in addition to starring in two on-going and different sets of
comic book adventures, also been featured in two motion pictures (with a third film on the
way), a Saturday morning television cartoon show, a rock concert tour (with accompanying
cassette and CD), and mall openings and fast-food outlet appearances too numerous to
mention. In 1990, in addition to the popularity of Ninja Turtle cereal, bubble bath, TV
dinners, trading cards, fruit juices, and T-shirts, Ninja Turtle toys outsold all others, both
across the year and for the hyped-up Christmas season. For young America, it is clear, the
Ninjas are where it's at in the early 1990s.
   These unlikely heroes made their debut in 1983 in a black-and-white comic book drawn by
Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird. Laird, trying to eke out a living with free-lance illustrating,
had been introduced to Eastman, an amateur cartoonist working as a short-order cook, by the
editor of a local comic magazine (Simpson 1990:59). The two formed Mirage Studios in
Dover, New Hampshire, where, as Laird tells it, the turtles were born:


             At that time, Mirage Studios was just us, sitting around
          in our living room, watching TV and drawing. One night,
          in a particularly silly mood, Kevin doodled up a pencil
          drawing of a turtle wearing a mask, with numchuks
          strapped to its forearms . . . the goofiness continued, with
          Kevin penciling a drawing of four turtles, each with a
          different martial arts-type weapon. (Laird 1988)
          
  Eastman, deciding "a name for these critters was in order," dubbed them Ninja Turtles.
Laird, drawing on two of the most popular themes in comic books of the time, tacked
"Teenage Mutant" onto the name. Thus, in an evening of lightheaded, absurdist fun, the
mythic turtles sprang to life. 

  The American Monomyth and the Turtles Tale

  Although many adults view the Turtles as just the latest moneymaking fad foisted off on
their kids by the culture industry, and are seriously concerned with them only in the context
of the amount of ultraviolence they feel is a part of their appeal, the fact is these "Heroes on
a Half Shell," as their best-selling theme song labels them, are more closely connected to
traditional heroic themes in American culture than most might imagine.
  Robert Jewett and John Shelton Lawrence, in The American Monomyth (1977), document a
mythic form that can be traced through American popular culture from Cooper's
Leatherstocking tales through the creation of such classic heroes as John Wayne and Disney's
Davy Crockett--and on, even to the 1980s cinematic reincarnations of Superman and Batman.
  The form and structure of this myth is derived from what Joseph Campbell, in his The Hero
with a Thousand Faces (1949), called the classical monomyth. This plot of heroic action has
been modified, as Jewett and Lawrence point out, in the American version, in which our
heroes-- reenacting the old rites of separation, initiation, and return to community--venture
forth from what Fishwick calls "the world of common dullness to the region of fleeting
wonder" (1972:4). In the myth, a community in a relatively harmonious paradise is threatened
by evil. Normal institutions fail to contend with this threat. A selfless superhero emerges,
usually reluctantly, to attempt to eradicate this evil, many times moved to action by the threat
of danger to a young, "innocent" woman. The superhero's first attempt may well be met with
failure, as he has some flaw that the evil force knows of and exploits. Moving out of the
community, the superhero connects with natural and supernatural forces which allow him to
correct the flaw (or override it).(This movement out of the community may or may not show
up in the American version of the myth, although it is almost inevitable in its classical form.)
   Thus aided by fate, the superhero returns. His decisive victory restores the community to its
paradisal condition. The superhero then recedes into obscurity--or rides off into the sunset!
Although, as Cawelti has noted (1976), the American pop culture hero has, in the last 15
years, become more a violent avenger than a restorer of justice, his traditional function in the
myth is one of restoring harmony to the community. The Lone Ranger exposed the evil
banker who had been cheating the homesteaders. Gary Cooper faced down four gunslingers at
high noon on the streets of Hadleyville. Batman (in his earlier comic book version) rid the
streets of Gotham City of the Joker and the Penguin.
   This restorative function of the hero, as acted out in traditional American popular culture, is
quite evident in the adventures of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Although there is a good
deal of physical violence involved in these tales, it is most all of a hand-to-hand-combat
variety. Unlike G.I. Joe or the Masters of the Universe, the Turtles are not violent avengers
who use explosive technology and the weapons of overkill to blow away the bad guys.
Instead, they may even beat the bad guys with no use of violence whatsoever. In one
Saturday morning cartoon episode, for example, the Turtles confront some punks who have
robbed an apartment, scaring them away without ever throwing a punch. As Michelangelo
exclaims, "You see, there are ways of settling disputes without violence."
   The major focus, in the Turtle tales, is on the social meaning of individual action and the
reestablishment of order to their world. This comes through strongly in the story line of their
feature film which, in turn, was adapted from the original comic book saga of Laird and East-
 man.
   A crime wave is plaguing New York City and the police are ineffective--largely because
they do not take seriously the idea that this amount of crime could be caused by young boys,
coordinated and running in gangs. The only one who is bringing heat on the establishment is
a young female newscaster--April O'Neil--who publicizes both the crime wave and the
ineffectiveness of city hall and the police on her nightly newscasts.
   The four turtles, who would be content to hang out in their pad deep in New York City's
sewer system eating pizza and watching TV, are drawn into action when they happen to see
April being attacked in a dark alley by a youth gang. They drive off the attackers and retreat
into the sewers unseen, cracking jokes as they go. ("We were awesome! Yeah! Bossa Nova!
Uhh ... Chevy Nova? Hahaha....")
   However, one of the turtles (Raphael) loses his weapon--a Japanese sai--in the battle. April
scoops it into her purse, thus giving Raphael an excuse to look for her, in hopes of recovering
it. This sets up a confrontation in a deserted subway station between April and members of
the evil Foot Clan--soldiers of the master villain The Shredder--who is behind the crime wave
and wants to put April off the air. Raphael breaks up the attack and carries April, like a
miniature King Kong carrying Faye Wray, down through the subway tunnel to the sewers and
the Ninja Turtles' pad, which they share with their Zen master, a giant rat named Master
Splinter.
   In the course of swift-moving later events, Master Splinter is abducted by The Shredder
and his Foot Soldiers and the Turtles' pad is trashed. Splinter is taken to The Shredder's
hideout and chained to the wall. Meanwhile, the highly emotional Raphael has a clash with
another of the Turtles (Leonardo) and storms out of April O'Neil's apartment alone. He is
attacked by the Foot Clan, beaten badly, and thrown through the skylight of April's apartment,
where the other three Turtles are hanging out. The building burns. And April and the Turtles
escape in April's battered Volkswagen van.
   They retreat to the country, and the abandoned farmhouse of April's deceased father. There,
in this quiet, rural environment, they rest, perfecting their various skills while Raphael
recovers from his beating.    Leonardo, the intellectual and spiritual Turtle, makes a "mind
contact" with Splinter, and calls together the Turtles, who have been grieving for their Master
and wallowing in self-doubt and guilt for having allowed him to be captured. The four of
them sit around a campfire in the woods and together call up the image of Splinter, who tells
them: "You have learned the greatest truth of the Ninja--that ultimate mastery comes not of
the body, but of the mind. Together, there is nothing your four minds cannot accomplish.
Help each other, draw upon one another, and always remember the true force that bonds you,
the same as that which brought me here tonight. I love you all, my sons...."
   United in love, the Turtles embrace while tears slip down their green cheeks. Then, with
their newly gained knowledge and power, they journey back to the city to rescue Splinter and
confront and conquer The Shredder and his dread Foot Clan. Having rid the city of its crime
problem, they return exultantly to their hideout in the sewer to watch April O'Neil on TV,
crack jokes among themselves, and eat mondo amounts of pizza. 

   Folk Tales, Popular Culture, and Myth:
   Variations on a Theme

   Recalling the traditional American monomyth, as sketched out previously, it is clear that
the plot of the Ninja Turtle film (which, in turn, is derived from the original comic book
series), follows the monomyth in an uncannily close manner. The Turtles would rather eat
pizza than fight. They are drawn into the conflict by reacting to danger aimed at a young
woman. Raphael's hot temper is the flaw that defeats them on their first attempt against The
Shredder. Removing themselves from the community, they connect with nature in the rural
American countryside, correcting the flaw and gaining spiritual insight. Armed with this new
knowledge about themselves, and united in mind and spirit, they return to the city, rescue
Splinter, destroy the evil, and vanish--into the sewers instead of the sunset (but one is allowed
some variation on the theme!).
   Another variation, this time an important one, is the abduction and rescue of Master
Splinter instead of the innocent young woman, who is the one captured, if anyone is, in the
traditional myth. In the 1990s, by contrast, the young liberated female moves to the side of
the Turtles as an heroic partner (after her initial distress gets them into the fray in the first
place), and the abducted figure (who in the myth represents innocence, purity, and love)
becomes the father figure. But what a shift in father figures! Master Splinter is raising his
"sons" alone, teaching them the skills and moral codes necessary to conduct their lives. He
detests violence and admonishes Raphael about his temper and anger. ("I have tried to
channel your anger, Raphael, but more remains. Anger clouds the mind. Turned inward, it is
an unconquerable enemy . . .")
   Splinter is wise and teaches that harmony, cooperation, and love are the ultimate weapons.
In a word, he is a socioemotional leader--closer to the traditional, nurturing role model of the
mom (combined with the wise elder--a rare figure in our popular culture) than he is to the
macho role model of the male that characters such as G.I. Joe represent.
   One has to look to the evil and merciless Shredder to find a violent 20 and dark macho
authority figure with his domineering and unnatural passion for power, wealth, and revenge
(Warner 1990, 127). It is no accident that The Shredder, in his earlier more human incarnation
in Japan, was Oroku Saki, a jealous student of Yoshi Hamato, the Master of the Ninja clan
(who was Master Splinter in his previous incarnation). In their earlier conflict, Oroku Saki
defeated Yoshi Hamato in a bitter fight for power and the love of a beautiful woman, Tang
Shen--a classic acting out of the Oedipus myth. Now the two, as Master Splinter and The
Shredder (note the similarity in literal meaning of their names), are good and evil, the light
and the dark, the classic duality in which the existence of each makes sense only in relation
to the other.
   The Splinter/Shredder character is not the only composite character in the Ninja myth. As
Master Splinter teaches, the four Turtles are, symbolically, four facets of a complete and fully
realized super individual. Raphael is known for his hot temper and emotionality. With
Leonardo, who is strongly intellectual, they represent the classic conflict between emotion and
intellect that echoes through the mythic tales of our culture.
   The other two turtles represent success in social and technological skills respectively.
Michelangelo is the cool party/surfer dude--the one who knows how to handle himself in any
situation. Donatello is a master of mechanical things. He is the one who invents (and keeps
running) the Turtles' various technological contraptions--from their mobile automatic pizza
throwing weapon to the Turtles' airship. Donatello also understands computers and the
complexities of the electronic world of microchips, video, and passage into other dimensions.
  The colors of their headbands and belts reflects their major orientation. Raphael's is a hot
red in color, while Michelangelo, who also deals in warmer emotional matters, is orange. The
intellectual Leonardo has cool, blue attire--while Donatello, the mechanical one, is a mixture
of cool blue and red--a royal shade of purple.   Taken together, like many superhero teams,
the four Ninja Turtles are far greater than the sum of their parts. This uniquely American
wrinkle on the superhero, the smoothly functioning team, is reflective of our faith in
bureaucratic models--like a football team or a military unit, we win when our plugged-in
specialist selves each play their part. And yet, even here, the Turtles seem to be subverting
the form--it is, really, their comraderie, their sense of small-group community, which is of
more importance than their specialized skills, or their ability to smoothly mesh them together.
Turtles, like the young adolescents who idolize them, have a need for "ganging," and the
security that such group behavior provides.
   In addition to reinventing the traditional American monomyth, the Ninja Turtles have been
cultural raiders--gleefully pulling bits and pieces of American pop culture out of context and
reassembling it for their own purposes. Cultural references from comics, video, cartoons, and
film are cleverly woven into the fabric of their mythic world in, to use Umberto Eco's phrase,
a playful type of semiotic guerilla warfare (Eco 1973:100). For example, "cowabunga" comes
from the Howdy Doody Show,l where it was used by Chief Thunderthud, the Indian founder
of Doodyville. "Dude," of course, is 1990s hip kid street-speak which-- although ultimately
derived from the Western "dude" of"dude ranch" connotation--was first used in this way by
inner-city minority youth. Employed by Chicanos in East Los Angeles, the term signified a
cool, together person. From the youth of these inner-city ghettos, the term spread, in
California, to the white suburbs, becoming part of "surferspeak," and then a stable part of the
hip teen vocabulary of the 1980s-- along with terms such as "rad" and "mondo," both of
which show up regularly in Turtle talk (Lewis 1991).
   The location of the Turtles in the New York sewer system also ties in, thematically, with
our folk and popular culture. For many years there has been an "urban legend" circulating
around the country concerning giant alligators in the New York City sewer system (Brunvand
1981:90-  98). They got there, so the legend goes, because they were bought as pets when
they were very tiny and flushed down toilets in the city by moms and dads when they began
to get too big, or when the child had lost interest in them. This urban legend was used as the
basis of the campy 1970s film Alligator! (which also satirized the successful Jaws--a large,
water-based creature fighting back against the human race). Here, the Turtles are the good
guys, in a clever inversion, but they grow from small pets that (in this case, by accident) have
been dropped into the sewer system.
   Other folk and pop cultural references in the Turtle myth include villains that parallel those
found in various 1950s and 1960s films, from The Fly to Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Superman has appeared (as an overweight, petulant lout) in the comic book version, as have
several char-  acters from the Black Lagoon. Even The Shredder has a decidedly Darth Vader
look to him, especially in the movie version of the tale.
   The whole idea of mutant turtles (created by their exposure to a radioactive green slime in
the sewers) recalls the dozen of movies of the 1950s with the theme of giant, radioactively
mutated animals roaming the earth. A youth-oriented film of the early 1980s, The Toxic
Avenger, spoofed this whole theme, while merging it with the concept of the superhero, as
does the Turtle myth.
   The transformation of the Turtles from lovable, slow, cuddly creatures into lean mean
fighting machines reflects a tradition of transformation in our superheroes. The Lone Ranger
was transformed from a regular peace official by the vengeful energy he gained when his
comrades were slaughtered around him in an ambush. Clark Kent, a mild mannered reporter,
looks for phone booths and becomes Superman. Billy Batson transforms himself into Captain
Marvel by uttering the word "Shazam." Batman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman--all are
ordinary,  rather ineffectual humans who can transform themselves into powerful
superheroes--an idea most appealing to young children and adolescents, who are still in the
process of developing a self-identity, and who many times feel powerless, ineffectual, and
frustrated in the adult world that surrounds them. 
   This concept of transformation (Englehardt 1986:91) has reached its 30 zenith in kid culture
with the Japanese-originated "transformer" toys, comics, and cartoons, in which shape-shifts
are made from machine to robot/humanoid and back again. These powerful figures probably
can be traced back to the popularity of The Bionic Man on American TV, and to the line of
toys he inspired. From there, one can move forward to Robo-Cop and The Transformers. And
in the Ninja Turtles, The Shredder ("transformed" from a martial arts expert) looks
surprisingly like one of these Japanese transformer toys himself
   The Turtles also directly reference the 1980s craze for things oriental in our popular
culture, from Kung Fu films with Bruce Lee and the Karate Kid, to the latest samurai epic
(whether it be Shogun or the newest Kurosawa film), to the fascination with oriental
philosophies and the "mysterious wisdom" of the East that Master Splinter so playfully
embodies. Those who have criticized the Turtles (especially the film version) as racist and
anti-Japanese are perhaps missing the point. Although it is true that Japan-bashing has become
increasingly popular in America, and the bad guys in the film all hail from Japan and are
depicted as devious, violent, and deadly, one must remember that Master Splinter is also from
Japan. And so is the philosophy he imparts to the Turtles, who use it (and Japanese forms of
the martial arts) to defeat the bad guys in the end.   
   Critics such as these also miss the point that a large amount of what goes on in Turtle
culture is satire and spoof. When April O'Neil, about to be attacked by the Foot Clan in the
subway, cracks "What . . . Am I behind on my Sony payments again?" we have a joke that
has more to do with American consumer habits than it does any type of racism. These sorts
of cultural references are meant to be funny--it is no accident that the four turtles are named
after the cultural paragons of the Western adult world's "holy" renaissance, and by a mutant
rat? at that! (Splinter got the names from an art book he found discarded in the sewer--a
further comment on current American cultural priorities and values.) This type of satire--the
mocking of icons of adult culture (Fiske 1989), or the bricolagic rearranging of them to create
bizarre, "absurd" messages (Clark 1990)--is often seen in the cultural material of adolescents
and preadolescents, from Mad magazine through the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in both
their original, teen-oriented comic book version and in the cartoon and video versions
designed for the younger audience.

   Inversions: Questioning the Values of Adult Culture

   A related aspect of playing with the symbols of culture is that of inversions. Not only are
objects rearranged, as in bricolage, the standard cultural meanings associated with these
objects are inverted. This cultural phenomenon, seen in areas as seemingly unrelated as punk
styles (Hebdige 1979), carnivals (Bakhtin 1968), and professional wrestling (Fiske    
1987:243-255), is common in the culture of the culturally powerless-- like American
adolescents. It is also very much evident in the saga of the Ninja Turtles.    Not only are
turtles unlikely heroes, they come from a class of objects--reptiles--that are almost universally
used in American culture, cartoon or otherwise, to signify villains. Although snakes are the
heaviest signifiers (perhaps because of the Judao-Christian equation of the snake as the devil
in the Garden of Eden), other reptiles, such as lizards, alligators, and crocodiles are commonly
cast as villains in cartoon stories. With the Turtles, this point of inversion is underscored by
having their wise and kind mentor, Master Splinter, exist in the form of a rat-- another of the
common symbols of viciousness and evil in our culture, as seen in texts ranging from James
Cagney's famous "you dirty rat" to the fright film Willard and the works of Stephen King.
   Sewers, where the Ninja Turtles live and where they were magically 35 transformed into
their heroic forms, are also signifiers of dirt, dark, and death in our culture. Heroes are to
come from humble beginnings, it is true. But they live in clean, well-lighted places, not in the
dark tunnels of our refuse, sluggishly festering deep beneath our urban feet.
   A third cultural inversion is that of mutation itself Warner has pointed out that mutants
almost always appear as villains in cartoons (1990:123), and also in our culture at large. As
Stephen King remarks in Danse Macabre, there is an equation in our culture of mutant and
monster. He refers to John Wyndham's novel, Rebirth, in which the protagonist of the novel
has plaques hung in his home reading, "Keep True the Stock of the Lord," "Blessed is the
Norm," and "Watch Thou for the Mutant" (King 1981:201). Mutations always challenge the
status quo and, because of this, are grand symbols for cultural inversion. The Ninjas--and
Master Splinter--are mutants (as admittedly are two minor villains, Rock Steady and Be Bop).
In contrast to the master villain Shredder, who is a natural, highly physically endowed human
being, the heroes of this saga are mutant, sewer-living reptiles.
   Although there are many other minor cultural inversions in the stories, two more are worthy
of note. One is the treatment of April, the Turtles' female sidekick. As previously mentioned,
the monomyth would dictate that the young woman in the story be virtuous, weak, and in
need of saving. In the Ninja Turtle story, April is young and in a glamorous
profession--television newscasting. Although she does need rescuing in the story, she proves
herself to be both physically and emotionally strong--and bright. Without her help, the Turtles
could not defeat the Shredder and his Foot Clan Soldiers. As a strong, positive female role
model, April flies in the face of a good deal of traditional American popular culture. Although
she is not the only "liberated" female figure in contemporary American cartoons--there is
Miss Bianca in The Rescuers , for example--she is probably the most fully realized, and her
portrayal in the comic book series is extremely sensitive and enlightened.
  Finally, there is the character of Casey Jones, the teenage crime fighter who aids the Turtles
most significantly in their rural isolation-- where they prepare for their final battle with the
Shredder. Jones acts as a sort of"big brother" figure for the Turtles--helping Donatello, for
example, repair an old truck at the farm. While they work, the two engage in typical
teen/male name calling, back and forth: "Barfaroni." "Camel Breath." "Duck Fart." "Gack
Face." "OK. Now, tum it (the engine) over."
  Jones, also used to some extent as a romantic foil for April in the film, is an alienated urban
teen who has, independently of the Turtles, become fed up with the violence of"his" city.
Acting alone (with no family, parents, or friends), Jones is battling the urban punks of the city
when he is first encountered by the Turtles.   Clearly, Casey Jones fits into the American
monomyth well--a 40 teenage hero, fighting for what he believes in the corrupted urban
landscape of adults. And his name is, of course, significant in this respect. Casey Jones has
been an American hero from his runaway-train folk ballad days to his appearance in a hit
counterculture song by the Grateful Dead in the early 1970s.
  But now we have the delightful inversion. Casey Jones wears a hockey goalie's mask, to
disguise himselœ Not only are masks, when they cover the whole face (not just the eyes), an
accepted feature~ of villains, this mask is an especially potent symbol. It is the mask that
Jason,3 the demented teen killer, wears in his long string of gory slasher films. So here we
have a teen, disguised as one the adult and older teen culture knows as deeply evil being--in
this inversion--perhaps an even better fit to the traditional American mythic hero than are the
Turtles themselves. 

  The Character of Evil

  One cannot conclude a discussion of the Ninja Turtles saga without some further attention
being paid the villains ofthe stories. The Shredder, as the primary source of evil, is a dark,
domineering character with an insatiable thirst for power and the ultimate destruction of
Master Splinter and the Ninja Turtles. As such, he typifies on the surface the sort of villain
most usually found in cartoon stories. As Warner has pointed out, deviant character in cartoon
villains is visually reified. Villains consistently have their moral status linked to their
appearance, "their face and bodies express their basic characters . . ."; this "suggests to
viewers that deviance originates genetically, not socially...." Villains are "bad seeds ... they
lie, cheat, steal, and covet; they abuse their associates, behave selfishly, act mercilessly"
(1990:119-120). Evil, in a word, is biological or psychological, not social, in origin. Blocked
opportunity structures in a society, or outrage at a societally accepted set of values or social
conditions that is perceived to be wrong, for example, have nothing to do with transgressions
against society in cartoon land. Evil is evil. Standards are universal. Just as in the American
monomyth--and in the minds of many middle Americans.
   The Shredder fits this notion of evil perfectly. A Darth Vader type, he is encased in heavy
body armor with razor-sharp spikes bristling from his shoulders and his wrists. He wears a
heavy metal helmet which also wraps around his face, revealing only his eyes, which glow
with menace (a common feature of cartoon villains). His black cloak, which he sweeps around
himselffor dramatic effect, suggests Vader from Star Wars, as does the amplified breathing
that overlays his speaking voice in the feature film. As with many cartoon master villains, the
Shredder is athletic and physically powerful, with a stress on his male secondary sexual
charac-  teristics. And yet, in the Ninja saga, the ultimate nature of good and evil is
questioned, by making the Shredder the ying to Master Splinter's yang. There can be no
ultimate evil without ultimate good, the Ninja epic seems to be saying--the two are
inextricably intertwined--a bit more complex depiction of evil than is traditionally found in
cartoon stories (Warner 1990).
   The Shredder's closest associates, whom he abuses constantly, are the mutants Rock Steady
and Be Bop, a wart hog and a rhino that he--the Shredder--mutated into dull-witted,
mesomorphic punk rockers, complete with purple spike hair and bondage chains. These
bumbling characters, like most secondary villains, lend a comedic element to evil--the
Shredder's dark plans are constantly being scrambled by this bumbling twosome. Still, as
laughable as they are, Be Bop and Rock Steady are both stupid and dangerous--a combination
that is common in our mythic conception of"bad" guys as flawed and inferior, and thus, nat- 
urally destined for ultimate defeat by the moral forces of right. In reality, these moral forces
of right, in the 1970s in Great Britain and America, created a moral panic concerning teen
punk rockers--who, as Hebdige (1979) and others have described--were labeled by the media
(and ultimately by the public) as deviant, deranged, and laughable--even as they were
pronounced morally dangerous. That this establishment attitude shows up in the Ninja story is
interesting. Ultimately, in this cartoon saga, the punk "threat" is seen to be of little real
significance. Anyone (meaning adults) who, in real life, feels threatened by punk rockers and
their styles is really missing the point, the Ninjas seem to be saying.
  The other major villain in the Turtle saga is Krang, the alien from 45 "Dimension X."
Krang, a quivering pink brain with octopus-like tentacles, has dreams of invading Earth with
his soldiers, and is constantly in conflict with the Shredder as to who of the two will be the
more dominant. Krang has sharp, fanglike teeth (a sure mark of a villain) and is clearly a
spoofon the adult American culture's distrust of intellectuality. In middle-American culture,
"brains" are suspect. Existing in some dimension other than our own, they are to be distrusted
when they are evilly clever, like Krang, and ridiculed as not understanding the "real world"
when they take exception to (or ignore) self-evident middleAmerican cultural truths. Krang
takes this position one step further along in spoof, as he manufactures a huge,
Frankenstein-like hulking body in which to move himself around when he visits Earth. Krang
sits in the stomach cavity of the body, and manipulates it with his tentacles-- equating the
self-serving greed of the stomach with his type of insatiable intellect, while at the same time
drawing on a whole host of pop cultural images of alien-controlled monsters. The spoofed
message is clear--if you allow it, these "alien" intellects can--and will--bend you to their will,
and you will be no better than the walking corpses of George Romero's brilliantly satiric
Living Dead films, which Krang's image evokes.   But the Ninja epic does not stop here, with
respect to villains. 
   To keep the plots moving in the steadily lengthening list of comic books and TV cartoon
shows, there is Rat-Man (a Schwarzenegger~type whose name is a clever reference to Bat
Man); Don Turtellini (Godfather and the Mafia); Baxter Stockman (the mad scientist/fly
combination, drawn from the 1950s classic film The Fly); Leatherhead (an oblique reference
to the baddie in Texas Chainsaw Massacre); the Triceratons (human/ dinosaur creatures); and
even the Teenage Mutant Punk Frogs, to name but a few of the secondary villains who have
appeared in these adventures. These villains, drawn cleverly from American pop culture
myths, are another way in which the Ninja Turtle epic playfully comments back upon our
commonly held concepts of good and evil, even as it presents these concepts to a new
generation.

  Conclusion

   In sum, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle saga is one in which the traditional American
monomyth is resurrected, then cleverly played with in its contemporary American pop cultural
context. As John Clarke has pointed out: 
   Together, object and meaning constitute a sign, and, within any one culture, such signs are
assembled, repeatedly, into characteristic forms of discourse.