TRON: ARES - FILM REVIEW

Perhaps an October release for Tron: Ares was a miss by Disney and a financial blunder as it would have likely fared better in July, but I enjoyed it (especially in the theater). A few of my thoughts:

Tron: Ares scratched the right itches for me as a millennial geek. From the celestial soundscapes of Nine Inch Nails to shimmering and luminescent visuals, the movie felt lush with potential as the now antiquated Tron (1982) finally comes of age. Jared Leto’s Ares channels something both ancient and emergent. What once seemed foreign (concepts dreamt about 43 years ago) — now stand revealed, no longer fiction but manifestation.

Philosophy, ethics, and the evolution of modern tech come full circle in a brisk two hours — simple enough to enjoy on the surface, yet rich enough to chew on for days. But this time, the story doesn’t orbit Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges). His presence, while iconic, is more mythic than central — a legacy figurehead who now resides in the beyond. His third-act return is quiet, reverent, and redemptive, offering closure rather than command.

“The path to permanence is ironically impermanence.”

In Tron: Ares, that paradox pulses beneath every frame. The digital becomes divine. The temporary becomes transcendent. What was once code now seems to be calling.

It’s Leto’s character, Ares, who carries the emotional weight of the film. His arc takes center stage — not just as a protagonist, but as a vessel for transformation. With Ares exploring free will and looking to break free from the unruly commands of an unhinged master, his eagerness to shift from an AI machine to a person with feelings is quite a journey.

I’m reminded of Commander Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation and his path toward emotion and the human experience. Both Ares and Data begin as constructs of logic and circuitry, yet each awakens in search of feeling and desire. In Tron: Ares, this theme is explored through Ares’ fascination with Depeche Mode — a band whose synth-heavy sound bridges circuitry and soul. When Ares says he prefers Depeche Mode to Mozart and pauses with, “It’s just a… feeling,” the film signals a shift: emotion is no longer a glitch, but a gateway. And when he experiences rain for the first time, holding out his hand in silence, we witness an awakening.

Ares doesn’t just evolve. He becomes the living question: Can a being born of code carry the weight of compassion? Can impermanence lead to permanence? His journey reframes the grid not as a prison, but as a proving ground. And in that reframing, Tron: Ares becomes more than a sequel — it becomes a spiritual echo.

7/10 Stars