X1: Danny Pennington

X = FICTIONAL CHARACTER

I turned 4 the Summer the Turtles invaded. I can remember every commercial that played before the feature on my VHS copy; particularly this one:

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were great. Funny. Strong. Colorful. Witty. And they each were named after renaissance artists… so we all got a little art history to boot!

Beyond the sheer childhood glee of seeing giant Japanese inspired turtles fight evil in New York City's underground, 1990's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is just good filmmaking. The crowning achievement (beyond the blessing of existing in a pre-CGI age) of the film, of course, is its cast of characters. Everyone's not only uniquely colored, but empathetic and individualized. Everyone from cricket-bat wielding Casey Jones to yellow trench-coated April O'Neill to wise, old Splinter the master rat… everyone is lovable.

That is, everyone except teenage jerk-wad Danny Pennington. What a dork.

At the crucial age of 4, I needed to start making personal decisions. Foremost among these cataclysmic decisions was, "What's my name?" -- Now, perhaps this seems simple enough, but not so for my wizened elbow wrinkles. I was born Daniel Todd Stack, and the time had come to insist on the name the world would refer to me as. I could be Daniel, Dan, Danny, Danny T., Todd, DanToddy… this was monumental. Once you get saddled with a shortened name, you're stuck. There's no social mobility there. You are who they say you are.

After countless views, I knew one thing for certain; I was not going to be another Danny, like that snot bag Danny Pennington.

And thus, my name fell to Dan… which I never was too keen on. Over time, of course, I found a blip in the social matrix and was successfully able to implement a rouge"te" to the end of my name, and thusly, appear to you as I am today.

But back to the brat, Danny Pennington…

Danny is the son of Charles Pennington, the news chief over at Channel 3. Early in the film, we learn that Charles has to drive Danny to school every morning, "Just to make sure he actually goes." Soon thereafter we realize that the young Danny daily ditches school to join up with a new teen club financed bountifully by a mysterious organization known as the foot clan.

Okay, let's quit the hazing and knuckle down to the point.
Now that I know I'm not Danny, I can see the many ways that I am.

Much like Pinocchio, Danny, unsure of himself in the world, follows demons into a modern day Pleasure Island. The character arc for Danny is the moral center of TMNT. We all judge Danny because he's pimply and off-putting to his loving Father. But Danny doesn't know any better.

By film's end, Danny learns who's good and who's evil. Moreover, he learns what good and evil both look like. He sees their true colors. And, knowing all that, he chooses good over evil. He helps Splinter, the Turtles, and returns to his Father's loving embrace. It's a prodigal son story.

I've never wanted to be a prodigal son -- because that's such a weak position to be in. I've always wanted to be the rich King, who, with grace aplomb, deals out mercy in place of wrath. I've wanted to be the Turtles rather than the victim needing saving.

My current lot in life establishes a new horizon of empathy for young Danny Pennington. He didn't choose evil in knowledge. He chose it in ignorance. His path of raging hormones and motherlessness blinded his vision and plugged his years. His heart and mind couldn't be reached, either by the left or the right. Lost in the fog, Danny chose the path of least resistance: immediate inclusion and acceptance.

I like to be included. I like to be accepted.

I think the great majority of us are willing to fight and die for what we know to be true and good. But how often can we visualize our choices as that fog-less, that succinctly right and wrong?

Danny makes the right choice in the end. I think it's about time we rename him… give him a name that shines.