Jared Leto cool-poses his way through this high style / low substance sci-fi threequel. “The ’80s,” gasps Jared Leto (the eponymous Ares) with something approaching the human emotion of reverence. "Classic," he says during a sequence paying extended homage to the visuals of the original Tron movie. “I love the 80s,” he fawns as he talks about how great Depeche Mode are, in a segment intended to illustrate the difference between being told something is good, and feeling as if it is. In Tron: Ares, the best is always in the rear view mirror – whether it’s the film's take on the famous Akira slide (reset the clock!) or its garbled recollections of whatever constitutes Tron lore. For all of its faults, 2010’s Tron: Legacy at least showed interest in building new visual architecture, or playing around in new technological spaces (perhaps irresponsibly, perhaps to a fault). Rather than thinking about how Tron could adapt to now, the film grasps at the apparent glories of the past. Curiously, it also eschews Legacy's cast as it hits a soft reset on the franchise. As such, Ares feels more confused, more hollow than its predecessor, and with none of the winsome kitsch to make up for it. Somehow Ares also outdoes the film literally titled “Legacy” in its navel-gazing – its callbacks to the first instalment feel especially desperate. The film cites Greek mythology, with Ares and his subordinate Athena (Jodie Turner-Smith), but its ploys for a sequel are more reminiscent of the wax wings of Icarus. It’s a film with less substance than its predecessor, attempting to reach for more, and likely doomed never to make it that far. Leto is simply not a capable enough or, for that matter, an even remotely likeable performer, certainly not to the level needed to connect the thematic dots. People (fairly) criticised the uncanny lifelessness of the digital replica of Jeff Bridges in Tron: Legacy, but Leto feels like an even less convincing impression of a human. It's a crucial failing, as the film hinges on our belief that there’s a burgeoning humanity in the character Ares that deserves to be preserved. More convincing in this regard is Turner-Smith who, as Athena, plays a program more confused and troubled by the human sensations beginning to creep into her code. There's some actual substance here, or at least a clearer through-line than how Leto robotically flips between two contrasting tones of voice. Meanwhile as Eve Kim, replacing the previous film's Sam Flynn as head of Encom, Greta Lee is given little to work with. Her supporting cast, who honestly could have been flown in from the M3GAN set with little difference in either case, have even less. Tron films acting as a glorified album release is nothing new, and the value in these works to most has always laid plainly in their shiny surfaces. Some small parts of that works: Nine Inch Nails, like Daft Punk before them, are not just exceptional but vital in setting the mood with their pulsing current of its electronic score, bringing a bit more of an edge, and even some more intimacy to proceedings. The same can't be said for the look. Any allure of the Grid's signature neon glow is often undermined by director Joachim Rønning's shot choices, and also from the overall structure of the film. Ares deliberately keeps the Grid – Tron’s most interesting visual space! – at arm’s length so as to explore what it would look like if the programs existed in the real world. Mostly like photographic light painting, as it turns out. To the film’s credit there’s a dedication to figuring out some impressive practical effects work in this clash of two worlds, but this is sadly undermined by the actual composition of the action sequences, which swing between feeling inert or overly busy. There are some exciting ideas, but only in isolation, like the Grid being weaponised to kidnap someone, or the development of Ares intercut with Ghost in the Shell-esque visuals of his construction. A chase sequence following an escape from the Grid gives Ares its most thrilling sequence, as a neon jetski crosses its strange landscape. And then it’s mostly back to the real world, which Rønning gives no sense of life, or organic messiness to compliment the deliberately oppressive sleekness of the Grid.Questions of, “What if a robot could feel something?” are old hat, and Legacy's presentation of the Grid as something both visually alien but also familiar in its fascist social structures, felt more meaningful. At one point Ares briefly touches on “AI” as we understand it now. In a press conference, Eve talks about AI potentially standing in for real people (even dead people) as someone to talk to in a therapeutic sense, an idea never revisited. It feels just as destined to be immediately outdated as its fawning over ’80s pop culture, as its likely ill-fated attempts at further sequels. Not that Tron: Ares has a responsibility to address the moment, but the filmmakers could have at least read the room. The post Tron: Ares review – plays like a vapid, neon-spangled album promo first appeared on Little White Lies.