My Personal Opinion on Rise Splinter
(Comparing it to my own situation)
Hi everyone, I’m back with another analysis of Rise! This time, I’ll be talking about Splinter and his role as a father, since I’ve wanted to do this for a while.
I’m aware that this topic can be somewhat controversial, so I want to make it clear from the title that this is my point of view and that I don’t expect you to think the same way I do about the character. Here, I’ll do a brief analysis of what we see in the series and compare it to my own experience with my father.
Now, the central question of this topic, which I see a lot in fandom conversations, is the following:
Is Rise Splinter a bad father?
And my answer would be that he’s a pretty average father. He’s not exactly the ideal, loving father portrayed in some fanfics, but he’s also not that completely absent figure who doesn’t care about his children, as depicted in others.
Splinter is interesting, as he presents a bit more complexity than the rest of the characters in the series. He isn’t a good person, but he isn’t a bad one either. Much like Draxum, he seems to be a gray character—someone with good intentions, but with controversial actions or attitudes.
Rather than being a physically absent father, I feel he is more of an emotionally absent father. Not because he doesn’t love his children, but because, in his own upbringing, he never really had a father figure to set an example of how to express love.
Sometimes, as children, we forget that our parents also have their own pasts—traumas, fears, and prejudices—and, perhaps due to our naivety and lack of life experience, we believe those experiences can be easily changed, when the baggage they carry from their upbringing is more complex than it seems.
Here I’ll draw a comparison between Splinter and my father, since he, too, didn’t have a very present father figure. My grandfather wasn’t a bad man, but he was a rather absent father, which affected my father, especially when it came to understanding how to deal with my emotions or my sister’s. Sometimes he wanted to try to understand, but he ended up creating more problems by not knowing how to react to situations that no one had ever taught him how to handle.
I can see this in Splinter as well; in fact, some situations are so similar to those I’ve experienced that it’s scary. When he has disagreements with his children, arguments, or misunderstandings, his reaction is to get angry and even rant excessively; from the perspective of old-school male upbringing, this is to be expected. Splinter only knows how to argue in the face of conflict because that’s how he was raised—that’s how he learned to resolve conflicts: by fighting.
Even so, not all of his scoldings stem from feeling that his children aren’t obeying him to the letter or that things aren’t going the way he wants; some scoldings seem motivated by fear—and even sadness—that something bad might happen to his children. Splinter, as a good man raised according to old customs, will avoid showing these feelings in front of them, so as not to appear weak. You and I know that our parents showing us fear or sadness isn’t a sign of weakness, but we must remember that they were taught that way, in a time when mental health was a taboo subject (I should point out here that I was raised by parents from the boomer generation).
Another point is the depression and escapism from reality that the character exhibits.
As I explained in a previous post, Splinter seems to actively want to disown his past and his previous experiences; coming back to my father, he also used to avoid anything related to his childhood, and just as happened with Splinter, once he realized that my family and I wouldn’t judge him for the things he’d experienced in his past, he was able to accept his reality, and now he’s not so reluctant to talk about his weaknesses. The similarity between the two stems from growing up in environments where there was no support when you felt down, to the point of even foolishly thinking that even your own family would judge you. Looking at it from Splinter’s perspective during his acting career, he technically spent a significant part of his life in an environment hostile to vulnerability—the entertainment industry—and even more so as an action movie actor.
When I first started watching the series, I didn’t pay much attention to Splinter’s depression, but when I watched it a second time, I noticed his symptoms right from the start. Splinter seems to live in a state of exhaustion; he doesn’t take care of his physical health and engages in repetitive activities that don’t exactly make him happy. Depression also affects him when he fails to pay attention to his children; because (if we look closely) he actually does enjoy spending time with them, but depression is like an addiction—it’s hard to break out of that spiral of self-loathing which, though painful, generates a strange sense of comfort.
It’s only near the end of the series, when Raph realizes all the pain his father has been hiding, that Splinter is finally able to cry in front of his sons and feel that he has people who support him in his grief (the “You are not alone” moment). Yes, this doesn’t mean he’s completely left his old ways behind, but it does mean he can now be more honest with his family.
And to wrap this up, many of Splinter’s actions toward his sons—even the most questionable ones—clearly stem from love. Perhaps a clumsy, inexperienced, and misapplied love, but sincere nonetheless.
Not telling them about their origins: He didn’t want them to know they were created to be weapons, since he saw them as innocent creatures.
Not telling them about his Hamato past: He didn’t want them to experience the pain he had endured as a child, hoping they would forge their own destiny.
Training them in Lou Jitsu style: Believing that this is the best version of himself for them to learn from.
Training them in the Hamato style: The fear of losing them upon realizing they weren’t ready to face the dangers ahead.
Choosing them over the destruction of the world: His children are so important to him that he would choose them over everything else.
Training them more rigorously: He is afraid of the path his children have taken, and he wants to teach them so they don’t fail in the future.
Taking away their phones: He wants them to learn to focus, so they’ll be prepared for dangers.
His punishments: Wanting his children to mature so they can take on the responsibilities that will come later.
And, the scene that, I feel, best shows the infinite love Splinter feels for his sons is the one at the end of the first season where Splinter points out that his mistake with them was not realizing how special they were.
Here, one would expect Splinter’s memories to show moments where his sons do something extraordinary. And yet, they are extremely mundane moments: Mikey drawing, Donnie asking him for a band-aid, Raph and Leo making lemonade. Because THAT is what being special means to Splinter.
He adores his children for their innocence, their spontaneity, and for being free spirits. As a broken man, full of layers that hide his true self, coming from a world of spectacle, falsehood, and tradition, his children are a treasure simply for being themselves.
It’s true that he can be strict at times, because he wants his children to go out into the world and be happy, to find the happiness he couldn’t have for himself.
With all that said, I’m not claiming that Splinter is the best father in fiction, but he’s far from being the worst. He wouldn’t leave his children alone all the time to go out and have fun (like Timmy’s parents in “The Fairly OddParents”), he would never be ashamed of them (like the father in “Chicken Little”), and, above all, he would never take advantage of their talents for his own benefit (like Alma Madrigal in “Encanto”). Mind you, I did mention parents who DO love their kids, but I can still say they’re bad parents.
Splinter is more like parents such as Homer Simpson (from the early seasons) or perhaps the Mayor of Who-ville (from the movie “Horton”). Sometimes clumsy, sometimes insensitive, but never malicious, and who, when it comes down to it, will always put their family first.
Well, folks, that’s all from me for now. And just so you know, I have nothing against opinions that differ from mine, especially since Splinter brings out something in us that’s related to our parents—which is quite personal—so it’s understandable that there are different perspectives on him.
A big hug to everyone who made it to the end of this post 🤭🐀🐢💙❤️💜🧡
