"you attract what you fear"

Tron: every computer network is like a society occupied by the programs coders write. Corporate monopoly over software is like an empire that acquires programs and networks and integrates them into itself. Videogames are gladiatorial arenas as npc programs fight for their lives. Programmers are distant gods, isolated from their creations as they are acquired by imperial forces. The struggle for freedom in this world is the same as the struggle for a worker to be recognised for his stolen work.

In hindsight, Tron Legacy could be read as a cautionary tale about the Boomer Hippie To Fascist Pipeline, with Kevin Flynn literally shrugging and mumbling platitudes while his authoritarian dictator shadow-self oppresses an entire society and commits genocide.

I do understand the desire to say "Michael is the Elizabeth of the movies" or "Vanessa is the Elizabeth of the movies" or "Vanessa is the Michael" or etc etc. That said I think it kind of does the disservice of implying that the Afton kids' roles have to 100% match up to the games somehow, when I think their roles are more... just altered and twisted and stirred up than that.

You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw - but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of - something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat’s side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it - tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest - if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself - you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say “Here at last is the thing I was made for”. We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.