All Turbo does is give Reynolds, Paul Giamatti, Samuel L. Jackson and Snoop Dogg the easiest paychecks they’ll ever make, and its corporate overlords the chance to sell a few toys. The only unique element it brings to the table is putting a Hispanic character front and center—a diversity effort diminished by the fact that he’s a taco-truck driver who skirts perilously close to cringeworthy caricature.
That Turbo sells speed, in all its forms, as an unimpeachable virtue is just as problematic as its peddling of the you-are-special/you-can-do-anything message, which, in this era of malcontent millennials who value little because they think they deserve so much, doesn't quite have the rosy ring it used to. However, as a film about social issues, and simply being yourself, it's commendably progressive, going so far as serving as a kind of coming-out story.
With Turbo, director David Soren makes a nimble and deft first-time feature that’s gleefully ludicrous, while steeped in enough realism to ground it in touching sentiment. This is largely thanks to the fact that Turbo wears its shtick on its sleeve, reveling in silly fun and rarely pandering with easy gimmicks.