Jared Leto, Greta Lee, Evan Peters, Jodie Turner-Smith, Hasan Minhaj, Arturo Castro, Gillian Anderson, Jeff Bridges
The most visually exciting moment of TRON: Ares has nothing to do with the present or the future, but instead the past. Without getting too deep into plot spoilers, the third movie in this very strange franchise once again draws the audience back into the world of our computers, and at one point computer program Ares (Jared Leto) enters a closed system that dates from the time of the original creator -- the long-missing Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges). That closed system gets rendered in exactly the style of the original 1982 movie, right down to the light-up grid on the floor and the unreal washed-out facial animation effects.
Seeing those bright colors and retro details on a massive IMAX screen in pristine 3D is a true treat, a sharp contrast to the otherwise dark and moody color palette developed by director Joachim Rønning. Yes, this retreat to the '80s is also nostalgia bait of the highest order, though it's honestly an effective reminder of the legacy of this franchise, and the initial wonder which made the first movie a cultural marvel, before it evolved into cult film status.
TRON: Ares doesn't seem poised to change the culture in anything resembling a similar way; while it has a lot more life to it than the inert TRON: Legacy, Ares keeps its focus on big spectacle as opposed to big ideas. In fairness, so many of the big existential ideas the movie could explore have been well-covered by the past few decades of entertainment. But it'd still be nice if it tried a little harder.
The movie begins with Dillinger Systems CEO Julian Dillinger (Evan Peters) achieving an incredible new breakthrough -- the ability to render digital creations in the real world, including "programs" like Ares that get printed as functionally human. Well, except that Julian explains that they don't need to eat or sleep, so how human they actually are in a biological sense is a question this movie shows little interest in properly answering.
Julian's not the only brilliant coder heading up a tech company -- Kevin Flynn's old company EncomX has been taken over by the dedicated Eve Kim (Greta Lee), and Eve's on the hunt for the Permanence Code, which is the solution to the one problem Julian hasn't been able to solve yet: Anything Julian laser prints (there are so many lasers in this movie) only exists for 29 minutes before deresolution occurs and the thing (or person) in question collapses into metallic ash.
For a movie that could easily get bogged down in technobabble, the Permanence Code is pretty much the furthest limit of Ares's science, and it's explained primarily by a graphic of a double-helix that's meant to represent, presumably, permanence. It's far from the only example of this movie avoiding greater depths, as the script almost entirely breezes past the big questions that might surround a character like its titular program seeking self-actualization. The fact that it does this while functioning as if those questions have been asked and answered strongly hints at the notion that Ares was heavily edited down, its most existential moments dropped to the cutting room floor.
The soundtrack by Nine Inch Nails does what it can to elevate things, and is often pretty successful at it. It's rare to witness a movie that seems to take its aesthetic cues from the soundtrack, as opposed to the other way around, but it's a choice that honestly serves the movie well, especially given the TRON tradition of top-notch scores. There are a few separate instances of that raw synth sound blaring just loud enough to inspire "hell yeah!" feelings, especially in combination with some extremely cool-looking action. This includes a solid motorcycle/lightcycle chase, a computer hack staged like a heist, and a little bit of city-destroying mayhem courtesy of a Recognizer making its debut in the real world.
Rønning finds other ways to bring visual flair to the screen as well: It's been a summer of movies where major on-screen exposition gets delivered by a montage of fake and real TV journalists, and Ares at least has the good manners to make its montage of fake and real TV journalists (and podcaster Kara Swisher) look cool as hell, translating those talking heads into beautifully-rendered digital animation. Writing-wise, it's still a too-easy approach, but it's also easy on the eyeballs.
Ares also has the benefit of an A-list cast, including the wonderful Greta Lee, who is just one great role away from an Oscar nomination, and proves she has the mettle for large-scale action like this, keeping her performance grounded even as the movie's chaos builds. Jodie Turner-Smith, as another security program eager for Julian's approval, makes for an effective adversary as well, with Arturo Castro getting some fun moments as Eve's assistant/portable comic relief.
The wild eyes of Evan Peters, so often the centerpiece of a Ryan Murphy project, are implemented to great effect here. Less effective is Gillian Anderson in the role of Julian's annoyed mum, but that's entirely because all the script asks her to do is purse her lips in a disapproving fashion, to the point where one worries that her face will get stuck like that.
Then there's Jared Leto, the bonafide Oscar winner of the bunch. It's unfortunately his character that keeps the thematic center of this movie from really coming together, as his interest in becoming "real" gets introduced in such a matter-of-fact way that it offers no real insight into who Ares is or who he wants to be. The most definition we get here is that Ares apparently has been given access to as much information as he wants about human existence, and has come away with... a love for Depeche Mode. "I don't know how to describe my love for Depeche Mode" is a real line of dialogue from this movie. Ares's favorite song? "Just Can't Get Enough."
Ares' pop music fandom is one of a few instances where this movie attempts actual humor, which feels a bit strange given the franchise's austere history, yet it also seems to let that fandom serve as an unspoken indication of Ares being more than just a security bot. Again, it simply feels like things could do deeper here: It's not that a Disney-made blockbuster needs to spend a significant portion of its runtime examining the nature of consciousness and our existence, but it's almost impossible to connect with Ares as an actual character beyond asides like these.
This is also yet another movie which sets up its lead characters for a potential romance before pulling away -- which in some sense is a good choice, since there really wasn't enough development or chemistry present to make it work, but it would have at least given Ares something actually human for the audience to hook into. Yes, in my head it's perfectly plausible for a computer program to just be a really big Depeche Mode fan. It'd explain a lot about the Spotify algorithm.
The original TRON is full of wild ideas and images but is a painfully meandering viewing experience; 2010's TRON: Legacy was a little tighter but too chilly and bland to spark the imagination. By comparison, Ares is probably the most successful movie of the trilogy to date, and its technical achievements in terms of effects are pretty stunning -- especially in combination with NIN. Yet it feels like there's still a software patch or two needed, for it to be fully functional.