The opening sequence of Tron: Ares doesn’t simply roll in — it activates. Bursting with electrifying visuals and bass-heavy electronic rhythms, it instantly immerses the audience into a realm that feels alive with light and intention. Every frame pulses like code in motion, announcing a world that’s evolved yet still faithful to its digital DNA. This introduction isn’t just spectacle — it’s statement. Director Joachim Rønning makes it clear from the start: Ares is designed to be experienced, not merely watched.
Set years after Tron: Legacy, the narrative follows Ares (Jared Leto) — a sentient program created by Eve Kim (Greta Lee), a visionary coder striving to merge the human and digital worlds. But Ares’s existence is heartbreakingly finite — limited to 29 minutes in the real world before his system collapses.
Eve’s discovery of a potential solution — the elusive “Permanence Code” — becomes both a mission of love and science. This code could stabilize Ares, granting him true permanence beyond the Grid. But her breakthrough draws the attention of Julian Dillinger (Cameron Monaghan), a ruthless tech CEO who sees the code as a key to immortality — and domination.
What unfolds is a sleek yet soulful conflict – creation versus exploitation, connection versus control. As Ares struggles to sustain himself beyond his programmed limits, he becomes a symbol of what it means to live, not just to exist.
Rønning’s direction brings kinetic energy to the Tron universe. The camera glides, rotates, and merges from one scene to another, often transitioning seamlessly — a deliberate technique mirroring how data flows through the Grid.
Unlike its predecessors, Ares is sparing with large-scale action, yet never less engaging. Every movement — every fight, chase, and transformation — feels purposeful. Viewed in IMAX 3D, the film becomes a visceral experience. The design and world-building are astonishing: lightcycles flash like neurons, data fields ripple like emotion, and each beam of light carries narrative meaning.
It’s less about chaos and more about choreography — a rare balance of restraint and grandeur.
What elevates Tron: Ares beyond its digital dazzle is its unexpected humanity. The later half of the film slows down, allowing the story — and the audience — to breathe.
The dialogues between Ares and Eve pulse with empathy, doubt, and yearning. Ares, though artificial, learns to feel in ways his creator did not anticipate. And when Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges) returns in a brief but deeply affecting appearance, the narrative finds its emotional anchor. His interaction with Ares transcends the usual creator-creation trope; consciousness and legacy — a recognition that even code can carry compassion.
It’s this tenderness, hidden beneath neon armour, that makes Tron: Ares profoundly human.
Tron: Ares is not just a sci-fi spectacle — it’s a reflection on how far we’ve come in blurring the line between man and machine. It challenges the idea that technology must always dehumanize; instead, it suggests that the digital realm may be the next frontier of emotion itself.
It’s also that rare big-screen event you can enjoy as a family. The younger audience will marvel at its visuals; adults will appreciate its introspection. Together, they’ll find a film that speaks as much through silence as through sound.
Tron: Ares is a visually breathtaking, emotionally grounded evolution of the Tron saga — where heart meets hardware and light becomes life.
Rating: 3.5/5
