Tron: Ares

Tron: Ares arrives more than four decades after Steven Lisberger's original vision transformed cyberspace into a luminous cathedral of the imagination. While the 1982 film revolutionized the genre by evoking the impossible with primitive computers, and Joseph Kosinski's Tron: Legacy pushed the boundaries of digital spectacle and sound with Daft Punk's unforgettable soundtrack, Joachim Rønning's third chapter in this neon mythology is both the most realistic and the most conflicted. It dazzles the senses, certainly, but in the age of generative AI and the collapse of technological utopias, its light seems colder, its perfection sterile. The question lurking beneath its smooth surface is not only what technology can do, but whether there is anything human left in this endless circuit.

The premise is almost comically timely for 2025: two rival CEOs, both ego prodigies, engage in a frantic race to control the new frontier of artificial intelligence. Greta Lee plays Eve Kim, the idealistic head of ENCOM, determined to use the mysterious permanence code—a relic of Kevin Flynn's digital experiments—to put technology at the service of humanity. Opposing her is Julian Dillinger, played by Evan Peters, a nervous technophile and grandson of the villain from the original film, a man who believes that progress is only real when it can be used as a weapon. When Julian brings his latest creation, Ares, played by Jared Leto, from the Grid to the real world using a giant 3D printer, he crosses the line between invention and creation. But Ares, like Frankenstein's monster with a silicon heart, begins to ask questions that no algorithm should ask.

Joachim Rønning's decision to anchor most of the action in the real world is bold and controversial. The Grid, that mythical digital realm of neon spires and infinite horizons, is now filtered through skyscrapers and rain-drenched asphalt. When glowing motorcycles roar through urban streets and Recognizers glide between skyscrapers, it feels as if the digital dream has finally infiltrated our own. The red and black aesthetic that replaces the cold blue palette of Legacy is striking, almost aggressive, and combined with the brutalist soundtrack by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, Nine Inch Nails, the film vibrates with an industrial menace. It's less bio-digital jazz than apocalyptic rave.

If only the narrative were as powerful as the images. Jesse Wigutow's screenplay brings together ideas from the two previous films (AI rebellion, corporate greed, digital transcendence) without really transcending them. The 29-minute lifespan imposed on printed programs is a clever device that adds tension to the action sequences, but also serves as an unintended metaphor for the film itself: dazzling and fleeting, its brilliance constantly fades before it can crystallize into meaning. A scene in which Ares races against time to save Eve as her code begins to decay seems to perfectly encapsulate the franchise's eternal struggle: the desire to merge the mechanical and the human before both dissolve.

The performances of the actors, however, keep the circuit alive. Greta Lee brings a quiet authenticity to Eve Kim, a rarity in big-budget cinema. Her blend of intelligence and vulnerability anchors the film's techno-spiritual verbiage in something recognizable as human. Evan Peters, trembling with arrogance, plays Julian as a man perpetually on the verge of collapse — a parody of all the Silicon Valley saviors who believe they are rewriting evolution. The often-controversial Jared Leto finds his stride once Ares begins to understand the chaos of emotions. When he confesses his love for Depeche Mode — “Just Can't Get Enough” becoming a kind of existential anthem — it's absurd, self-aware, and strangely touching, one of the rare moments when Ares remembers to laugh at himself.

Joachim Rønning's staging of the action is undeniably impressive. A light cycle chase through the city is a highlight, mixing real stunts and CGI in a way that previous films couldn't match. There's a fight staged atop a crumbling bridge of harsh light, a sequence so immersive that it almost redeems the thin plot surrounding it. And when Ares stumbles upon one of Kevin Flynn's old backup systems, rendered in the pixelated, washed-out style of the 1982 film, nostalgia hits like an electric shock. It's a nod to the past that deserves its sentiment. Jeff Bridges' brief but luminous appearance is gracious; it's less a service to fans than a blessing.

The film's moral message, however, remains unclear. Like the AI it depicts, Tron: Ares is plagued by its own contradictions, torn between idealism and cynicism, between the desire to be profound and the desire to simply entertain. It tackles ethical questions related to creation, wondering whether a consciousness born of code deserves compassion, but without ever lingering long enough to explore them. At times, it feels as if Stanley Kubrick's philosophical rigor has been traded for the logic of a fairground ride. And yet, when Athena, Ares' loyal lieutenant played by Jodie Turner-Smith, begins to question the commands written into her code, we find a glimmer of Tron's former magic: the feeling that beneath all this light, something alive is trying to break free.

There's no denying that Tron: Ares is a sensory triumph. The combined artistic talents of production designer Darren Gilford, director of photography Jeff Cronenweth, and editor Tyler Nelson give the film a rhythm all its own, a mechanical heartbeat that syncs with Nine Inch Nails' pulsating soundtrack. The audio mix is extremely loud, but that's intentional: the film doesn't want you to watch it, it wants you to feel it vibrate in your bones. It's cinema like circuitry, spectacle like system overload.

And yet, when the lights go out and the hum of the servers fades away, what remains is not the story or even the spectacle, but the strange melancholy that has always characterized Tron. In 1982, the Grid was a metaphor for possibility. In 2010, it has become a temple of nostalgia. In 2025, it is a mirror that reflects our difficult alliance with machines. Tron: Ares may not rewrite the code, but it understands the pain of its own obsolescence. It is a film about permanence built on impermanence, a beautiful illusion that sparkles just long enough to remind us why we continue to chase the light.

Tron: Ares
Directed by Joachim Rønning
Written by Jesse Wigutow
Story by David Digilio, Jesse Wigutow
Based on Characters by Steven Lisberger, Bonnie MacBird
Produced by Sean Bailey, Jared Leto, Emma Ludbrook, Jeffrey Silver, Steven Lisberger, Justin Springer
Starring Jared Leto, Greta Lee, Evan Peters, Jodie Turner-Smith, Hasan Minhaj, Arturo Castro, Gillian Anderson, Jeff Bridges
Cinematography: Jeff Cronenweth
Edited by Tyler Nelson
Music by Nine Inch Nails
Production companies: Walt Disney Pictures, Sean Bailey Productions
Distributed by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures
Release dates: October 6, 2025 (El Capitan Theatre), October 8, 2025 (France), October 10, 2025 (United States)
Running time: 119 minutes

Seen on October 8, 2025 at Gaumont Disney Village, IMAX Theater, seat E21

It should be noted that The Walt Disney Company France, after refusing access to press screenings to the independent online press, now seems to favor a more controlled communication strategy, relying on a press that is easily influenced through supervised interviews, press conferences, and various promotional events surrounding its releases.

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