Fifteen years after Tron: Legacy asked what happens when programs escape The Grid, Tron: Ares finally attempts an answer. Unfortunately, instead of building on that intriguing foundation, this third installment seems intent on forgetting everything that came before while fundamentally misunderstanding what made the original 1982 film a cult classic.
A Franchise Identity Crisis
The Tron franchise occupies strange territory in cinema history. The original wasn’t a blockbuster hit—it became a cult phenomenon gradually, earning its status through groundbreaking computer graphics and prescient questions about technology’s role in society. In 1982, computers were mysterious black boxes, and Tron dared to imagine their inner worlds. The 2010 sequel handled this legacy respectably, but Ares arrives without clear purpose or audience in mind.
What frustrates most about this installment is its surface-level homage to the original. The film includes both a meticulously recreated museum exhibit of Kevin Flynn’s office at Encom headquarters and his actual workspace at Flynn’s Arcade—yet inexplicably, the replica matters more to the plot than the genuine article. It’s an unfortunate metaphor for the entire production: polished imitation without substance.
Corporate Warfare Without Stakes
The narrative centers on another battle for Encom’s control, pitting new CEO Eve Kim (Greta Lee) against Julian Dillinger (Evan Peters), son of the original film’s antagonist. Lee delivers commendable work with limited material, while Peters clearly relishes every scenery-chewing moment. The film constructs familiar scaffolding—Eve gets a plucky sidekick (Arturo Castro), Julian has an imposing mother (Gillian Anderson), both chase a MacGuffin against a corporate deadline.
Yet this setup fundamentally betrays Tron’s counter-culture DNA. The original resonated because Kevin Flynn was an everyman whose work was stolen by corporate machinery—a relatable injustice that grounded the film’s wilder technological fantasies. Ares offers warring billionaire CEOs instead, and while there’s a designated hero and villain, their conflict generates zero emotional investment beyond knowing that’s how movies are supposed to work.
The Ares Problem
Jared Leto’s title character represents the film’s central failure. Everything hinges on caring about Ares, yet the script provides no compelling reason to do so. We glimpse him grappling with newfound “feelings,” but these moments vanish before registering emotionally. Dillinger presents Ares as unstoppable cutting-edge technology, though his pitch essentially describes a fantasy 3D printer to military officials as if it’s revolutionary.
Leto’s casting actually makes sense—his robotic detachment suits a program learning humanity—but the execution falls flat. His character’s Terminator-style HUD occasionally displays his thoughts, and that’s the extent of his inner life we’re permitted to access.
Nostalgia Eating Itself
More than perhaps any other ’80s franchise revival, Ares offers nothing beyond nostalgia. Jeff Bridges returns in a glorified cameo (no spoilers here), while multiple plot points revolve around in-universe nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake.
The most tone-deaf moment arrives during the typical Act One/midpoint breather, where characters earnestly debate whether corporations should reboot pop culture icons for profit or focus on bettering humanity. For the third entry in a franchise that arguably shouldn’t have become one, having characters conclude “we should better humanity” feels obliviously hypocritical. The film literally makes rebooting Tron part of Tron’s story—a snake devouring its own tail in real time.
Ignoring What Worked
Legacy concluded with program Quorra (Olivia Wilde) entering the real world alongside Sam (Garrett Hedlund), establishing clear groundwork for exploration. Ares dismisses this entirely, tackling the same concept from scratch far more clumsily than simply continuing established threads would have been.
Like Legacy, this sequel introduces yet another Grid. The visually interesting moments occur there, though they’re disappointingly sparse. There’s kernel of intrigue in escalating The Grid’s incursion into reality—similar to Clu’s invasion plans from Legacy, the potential for all-out war lurks beneath the surface. Jodie Turner-Smith delivers solid work as henchwoman Athena, leading the charge into the climactic confrontation, and the filmmakers clearly considered how digital entities might interact with physical reality. Light cycles and their energy trails deploy in novel ways occasionally.
But it’s exactly the wrong amount. Every Grid-versus-reality sequence pales compared to Legacy’s teased threat of program legions marching through city streets—a confrontation that film wisely avoided showing but this one desperately needed.
Half-Measures Everywhere
Ares suffers from terminal mediocrity. It’s “fine, I guess” from start to finish, which somehow feels worse than outright failure. You can’t fault a film for not being different, but you can criticize half-measures. Everything the movie attempts exists at surface level without depth. The title character’s journey unfolds in hasty shorthand, opposing forces remain broadly sketched, the visuals offer nothing innovative, and it contributes zero meaningful franchise development.
Most baffling: it’s unclear who this was made for. Not Tron purists, who’ll notice the fundamental misunderstanding of the original’s appeal. Not general audiences, who lack entry points into this mythology. Not action fans, who’ve seen these sequences executed better elsewhere.
The One Brilliant Element
The relentless Nine Inch Nails soundtrack deserves its own paragraph because it’s genuinely exceptional. Forget seeing this movie big—see it loud. The music dominates the mix throughout, rattling your teeth in the best possible way. It’s eerie, curious, moody, providing atmosphere that justifies NIN’s top billing in marketing materials.
The opening music especially captivates with its atonal construction—electronic tones stretch and warp uncomfortably, creating the sensation that something isn’t quite right. Unintentionally, it becomes the perfect introduction to the hollow experience that follows.
Final Verdict
Full disclosure: I bumped this score from a 5 solely because of Nine Inch Nails score, which is absolutely fire. For a franchise born from cutting-edge innovation and prescient technological questions, this third chapter falls catastrophically short of the 1982 original’s ambitions. Beyond nostalgia and an killer soundtrack, Ares wastes solid performances on ideas the film should have been self-aware enough to avoid.
Tron: Ares works desperately to honor the original but succeeds only in creating a hollow corporate facsimile—ironically, exactly what Kevin Flynn fought against. The good news? Like Flynn’s Arcade hiding on the other side of town, the genuine article from 1982 still exists, waiting to remind us what this franchise was supposed to be about.
