Satyavan(Narain) and Kirupakaran(Ajmal) have been friends since childhood. Both have passed out of college in first class but their ambitions are different. Kirupa is focussed on becoming a Sub-Inspector while Satya's ambition only goes as high as owning an auto. After a particularly harsh tongue-lash from his father, Satya approaches his uncle, a minister's PA, for help on becoming an SI. He succeeds but ironically, Kirupa fails. Meanwhile, a gang led by Logu(Pandiarajan) and his right-hand man Dhaya(Prasanna) is on a kidnapping spree, targetting young girls.

Anjaathey could be seen as a lot of things. It could be seen as a policeman's coming-of-age story, a tale about a friendship gone bad or a cops-and-robbers crime thriller. And then there are the parts about a son finding redemption in his father's eyes and a love story! Inspite of a few missteps in all of them, the individual segments are handled well by Mysskin and its to his credit that none of them feels tacked-on. Ofcourse, considering that any one of these tracks is strong enough to carry an entire movie, some narrative jerkiness is inevitable when they are merged together. But these cracks at the seams are not wide enough to damage the movie as a whole.

One of the reasons these tracks merge well together is that Mysskin handles all of them with a sober, realistic touch (after all, a person's life is not a one-track story and and when the movie is realistic, it is easy to accept that it simply reflects life's complexities). He conveys things through low-key, simple sequences rather than loud, cinematic actions and this makes the proceedings believable. Like for example, Narain's character arc. The fact that he is not serious about his new job is conveyed through his body language and a couple of comments about bribes rather than overt acts that turn him into a poster boy for corruption in the police. So when he develops a conscience, its completely believable and his sincerity from then on is convincing. The same goes for the friendship between Narain and Ajmal or the relationship between Narain and his father. They are developed naturally and so the changes they undergo, though significant, seem natural too.

The other common thread between these tracks is that Mysskin never loses sight of the human side of things, like for instance, in Narain's first experiences as a cop. We are used to seeing two kinds of cops in Tamil cinema - the honest, upright do-gooder or the corrupt lackey of the local politician. While Narain eventually morphs into the former, the transformation process - one could call it his rite of passage - is not easy and in a few scenes, lays out the difficulties associated with a policeman's job. In the same way, by making the girls and their parents important parts of the proceedings, Mysskin makes sure that the kidnappings invoke a genuine reaction from us rather than just seeming like convenient plot points.

Considering that it was a purely commercial insertion - the Vaazha Meenukkum... item number - that propelled Chithiram Pesudhadi to success, the duet and the item number here, though completely unnecessary speed-breakers, don't surprise us. What is surprising though is Mysskin leaning towards silliness in what should otherwise have been powerful sequences. For instance, Narain's finest scene, where he first realizes his inner hero, is marred by the silly actions of the goons he goes up against as they walk up to him one by one to get bashed up. Not as silly but still damaging are Vijayalakshmi's completely ill-timed declaration of love and Ajmal's realization of Narain's friendship in the climax. Sequences like these would have hardly merited a mention in a commercial pot-boiler but in an otherwise solid, involving movie like Anjaathey, they stand out rather clearly.

The movie's look matches its theme and topic. There are no bright colors in its palette and Mysskin doesn't shy away from setting many sequences in the dark. There are quite a few long shots and novel camera angles, especially in the climax, where the top shots exploit the location of the dense sugarcane field perfectly. There are some nice visual touches like an extended, superb sequence where all we see are the participants' feet(an act by Prasanna, that once again reveals his perverse mind, caps off this sequence and lends reason to the technique). There are a few gimmicks too (like, for instance, the fact that we never see one villain's face) but amidst movies where the camera - and the director's vision itself - is static, even such gimmicks are welcome.

Narain slips into the cop's uniform well enough but falls short in a few places. His shock(like when he sees Ajmal in the bar) or indignation(like he stands up to a superior officer) seem manufactured and his body language is inhibited. He is convincing in the action sequences though and though, like Vikram in Bheemaa he is made out to be superhuman, he manages to make the stunts seem believable. Pandiarajan and Prasanna play are surprising choices to play the bad guys. Their willingness to play against type is admirable but they don't bring anything new to the table. Bhaskar and Livingston are very believable with the former in particular being very realistic in his cliched role of a father disappointed in his no-good son.