The Tron franchise has always had an unusual cinematic life. The 1982 original became a cult classic, fondly remembered by the generation that grew up with it. For decades it seemed destined to remain a one‑off curiosity. Then, 28 years later, Tron: Legacy arrived — visually stunning, musically iconic, but ultimately a film that came and went without igniting the mainstream. A short‑lived animated series followed, and then the franchise slipped back into the digital void.

Fast‑forward to 2025, and out of nowhere comes Tron Ares, a sequel landing 43 years after the original. Instead of pulling humans into the digital world, this film flips the premise: the digital begins entering the real world.

A New Premise, Mixed Execution

The story centres on two competing corporations racing to bring a digital entity into physical reality. One wants to weaponise digital soldiers; the other hopes to use the technology to solve global issues like food production.

Ares — played by Jared Leto — is a program designed for war. After being killed and rebooted repeatedly, he becomes increasingly self‑aware and begins to desire peace instead. It’s a compelling idea, but the film doesn’t dig as deeply into it as it could.

The plot itself is straightforward, even thin. Connections to the original films feel more like scattered Easter eggs than meaningful world‑building. It rarely feels like the same universe, just one that occasionally name‑drops familiar tech or characters.

Where the Film Truly Shines

The visual effects are undeniably the star. The scale, the lighting, the blending of digital and real — it’s some of the most impressive work the franchise has ever had. At times it’s breathtaking. At other times, it drifts into “video game cutscene” territory, but even then it’s at least pretty.

Unfortunately, the cast — stacked with talent — isn’t given much to do. For the calibre of actors involved, it’s surprising how underused they are.

Final Thoughts

Tron Ares won’t convert anyone into a die‑hard fan, nor does it make a strong case for expanding the franchise further. But if you’re in the mood to switch off your brain and enjoy gorgeous visuals for a couple of hours, it does the job.

The brief Jeff Bridges cameo and a glimpse of lightcycles feel more like box‑ticking than genuine nostalgia, and they don’t quite anchor the film in the Tron identity.

Ryan Murphy’s Latest Dive Into Body Horror and Obsession

Billed as the “must‑see show of the year”… or at least of January, Ryan Murphy’s The Beauty arrived on Disney+ last week with a three‑episode drop before settling into weekly releases.

The premise centres on a new designer drug that promises youth and beauty. A tainted batch leaks into the world, killing those who use it — and the fallout unfolds across three interconnected storylines:

• Jeremy – an overweight, lonely incel searching for purpose and validation through the serum
• Cooper and Jordan – FBI agents investigating the mysterious deaths
• The Assassin and the corporation – a clean‑up crew trying to contain the outbreak and bury the truth

The show shares DNA with the film The Substance: body horror, the fear of ageing, and the grotesque pursuit of perfection. But The Beauty widens the lens. Instead of focusing on one person’s transformation, it explores how the serum ripples through society — users, victims, corporations, and the people trying to stop it.

From the opening titles to the stylised gore, this is unmistakably Ryan Murphy. It could easily pass as a lost season of American Horror Story with its mix of camp, shock, and glossy nightmare imagery.

Standout Performances

The cast is stacked, and several actors make the most of the material:

• Anthony Ramos is magnetic as the Assassin — charming, sadistic, and clearly having fun.
• Jeremy Pope delivers a layered performance as Jeremy, capturing both the vulnerability and the unsettling entitlement of the character. You pity him and recoil from him in equal measure.

Despite the horror, the show leans into dark comedy. Scenes swing from gruesome to absurd in seconds, and somehow it works.

A Strange New Format

The episode lengths are… odd.
Episodes 1 and 3 run around 50 minutes, while episode 2 clocks in at just 25. It’s a pattern Disney+ has been experimenting with lately, and it makes the pacing feel unpredictable.

Themes and Questions

The show raises plenty of uncomfortable questions:

• Are we meant to sympathise with Jeremy, or critique him
• What does the story say about beauty culture and the desperation to be desired
• Is the message really that an incel can be “fixed” through sex, or is the show critiquing that idea

It’s messy, provocative, and intentionally uncomfortable — very on‑brand for Murphy.