Although *Tron: Legacy* could hardly be described as a flawless pinnacle of cinematic artistry, the film nevertheless captivated audiences through its sumptuous, meticulously crafted visual design and its dynamic, pulse-pounding score composed by the electronic duo Daft Punk. These aesthetic triumphs endowed the 2010 sequel with a vitality that transformed what might have been a derivative retread into an entertaining and alluring reimagining of the 1982 cult classic that first invited viewers into the digital realm of the Grid. The filmmakers attempted to maintain a delicate and deliberate equilibrium between reverent nostalgia for the original film’s iconography and a forward-leaning exploration of new concepts—a balancing act meant to present *Legacy* as not just a reiteration, but as an evolution of the *Tron* mythos. While the film fell modestly short of fulfilling Disney’s lofty commercial aspirations, its respectable performance kept the studio intrigued by the idea that a future continuation of the franchise might yet prove viable.
That continuation arrives in the form of *Tron: Ares*, a film that aspires to rejuvenate the brand yet ultimately manifests as a middling attempt to reverse the series’ waning momentum. This new installment seeks to bridge the gap between human and digital existence in a manner consciously reflective of contemporary anxieties surrounding artificial intelligence and the growing dominance of algorithmic life in our everyday world. Under the direction of Joachim Rønning, *Tron: Ares* clearly endeavors to rekindle the sensory wonder that *Legacy* achieved with its neon-drenched aesthetic. Musically, its score—crafted by members of Nine Inch Nails—aims for an introspective and atmospheric tone, evoking the specter of modern Silicon Valley culture and our uneasy coexistence with the technologies we create.
However, where *Legacy* felt like a sleek, technologically inspired thrill ride, *Ares* unfortunately settles into the uninspired rhythm of a formulaic soft reboot. The film expends an inordinate amount of energy painstakingly clarifying a plot that manages to be both unnecessarily complex and disappointingly easy to predict. Despite boasting an impressive ensemble of talented performers—and one notably divisive lead performance—the film scarcely knows how to utilize its cast beyond dressing them in sophisticated suits that gleam under virtual lighting. These characters appear more as placeholders for another potential sequel than as living, breathing figures within a cohesive story. Even its few visually dazzling sequences, while technically virtuosic, fail to compensate for the lethargy that pervades much of the viewing experience.
Set in the timeframe following the events of *Legacy*, *Tron: Ares* introduces a reorganized constellation of human and digital players whose allegiances revolve around the ever-expanding influence of ENCOM, the omnipresent technology corporation at the heart of the *Tron* universe. Eve Kim, portrayed by Greta Lee, emerges as ENCOM’s visionary CEO—a figure torn between her legacy as a passionate game designer and her modern identity as the corporate face of advanced digital research. Though the broader public continues to perceive ENCOM as a premier developer of interactive entertainment, Eve and her inventive colleagues—Seth Flores (Arturo Castro) and Ajay Singh (Hasan Minhaj)—pursue far more transcendental ambitions. Their groundbreaking experiments investigate the possibility of manifesting digital entities as tangible, organic matter within the real world, a pursuit with the potential to rewrite the fundamental boundaries between software and substance.
Far from designing mere virtual amusements, ENCOM’s team envisions their research as a humanitarian enterprise—a revolutionary tool for mass-producing food, synthesizing medical resources, and addressing material scarcity through technology akin to an ultramodern form of three-dimensional laser printing. However, their progress faces a formidable antagonist in Julian Dillinger (Evan Peters), the ambitious and ethically compromised head of rival conglomerate Dillinger Systems. Whereas ENCOM imagines its technology as a force for global betterment, Dillinger dreams of weaponizing it, aligning his company’s innovation with military application and geopolitical power.
In one of the film’s early set pieces, Julian presents a high-stakes demonstration to his investors, unveiling his apparent success in transferring a sentient program—the titular Ares, embodied by Jared Leto—into the physical world. Yet, unknown to his audience, this avatar’s corporeal manifestation endures only fleetingly, dissolving mere minutes after materialization. Julian’s formidable yet exasperated mother, Elisabeth (played with restrained authority by Gillian Anderson in a role regrettably underutilized), is well aware that her son’s so-called triumph teeters on the edge of deceit. Both Julian and Eve, however, believe that a permanent solution could exist in the form of the elusive Permanence Code—an enigmatic piece of digital architecture initially developed by *Tron* legend Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges).
The narrative’s first act unfolds across a globe-trotting quest for this fabled code, echoing the structure of modern blockbuster franchises such as *Mission: Impossible* and *Jurassic World* but without their narrative propulsion or tonal confidence. Characters relay information in a cascade of witty yet cumbersome exposition, as though the screenplay distrusts the audience’s ability to parse even its straightforward premises. Eventually, Eve locates the long-lost code, triggering a relentless pursuit orchestrated by Julian, who dispatches Ares to retrieve it. High-octane chases ensue, punctuated by the illusion of imminent peril, yet when Ares seems poised to prevail, his fragile embodiment expires, dragging him back into the sterile digital void of the Dillinger Grid. Julian is left to resume his efforts like a frustrated gamer repeatedly forced to restart a level he cannot conquer.
A marginally more compelling narrative unfolds within that digital domain, the Grid, where Ares and his loyal lieutenant Athena (Jodie Turner-Smith, another performer underexploited by the script) perpetually reconstitute after each failed mission. This artificial world radiates menace and melancholia in equal measure, its pulsating corridors reflecting Ares’s existential turmoil as he questions the significance of his preprogrammed purpose. Here, the screenplay brushes against ideas both timely and provocative—the notion that entrepreneurs of artificial intelligence have become less interested in constructing tools to elevate humanity and more obsessed with generating obedient simulacra that flatter their creators’ egos. Yet these philosophical gestures remain underdeveloped, serving only as hints of a more profound meditation that the film never fully embraces.
Once the narrative returns to the physical world, its energy wanes further. As Ares’s interactions with Eve gradually humanize him, positioning him as an unwitting antihero, the film attempts to infuse their relationship with emotional undercurrents that border on the romantic. Unfortunately, the chemistry between Lee and Leto is inert, their shared scenes lacking tension or warmth, a deficiency that undermines the intended thematic connection between machine and human empathy. Although both actors navigate the CGI-heavy action sequences with professional poise—zipping through the Grid on elegantly designed *Tron™* vehicles that gleam like kinetic works of digital art—the set pieces themselves rarely convey the exhilaration that once defined the franchise’s aesthetic identity.
Perhaps most perplexing is Disney’s apparent conviction that audiences might still crave yet another *Tron* sequel after this effort, despite its own visible uncertainty about *Ares*’ final product. The underdeveloped appearances of supporting players—particularly Gillian Anderson and Cameron Monaghan—suggest extensive post-production revisions and narrative pruning, likely intended to streamline the film into something that feels more reboot than direct continuation. Such streamlining may appeal to newcomers unfamiliar with the franchise’s lore, but for long-standing fans who remember the imaginative vigor and sense of discovery that once defined *Tron*, *Ares* offers little to quicken the pulse.
Co-starring Sarah Desjardins, *Tron: Ares* is scheduled for theatrical release on October 10th. Whether it will reignite the series’ dormant spark or merely serve as another flickering echo of past glories remains to be seen—but for now, the Grid feels more like a faded memory than a realm reborn.
Sourse: https://www.theverge.com/entertainment/794222/tron-ares-review
