Excerpt:

“In Anjaathey, Mysskin opens an action sequence – something that could have been just another set piece with fist-pounding fight choreography – with nothing but stillness and an expanse of sky; the frame is held as people enter and exit, which is to say that instead of the usual practice of the restless camera following the characters, the characters show themselves only when they wander into the gaze of a fixed camera. Much later, the director shows a bad guy being shot to death, and then complicates our emotions by having this villain’s young son struggle to reach his father through the obstacle course of a couple of policemen, whose swaying efforts to block the child assume the proportions of some sort of surreal, macabre dance. And in what is possibly the showiest – and therefore, most self-indulgent – piece of filmmaking I’ve seen in years, Mysskin shoots an entire sequence with the camera just a little above floor-level. We see feet scurrying about, we see objects – a bag, a door, a chair, a mirror – and we see the payoff to the shot when the villain does something unspeakably vile while on all fours. With all this, did I tell you there’s a character whose face is never seen, who’s always shot from behind his bald head? Or that, in another scene where the protagonist is simply seen walking, his impending journey from badness to goodness, from darkness to light, is prefigured by the illumination on the roads – the path he’s ambling along is lit by the forbidding blue of the moon, and his destination is bathed by the warm yellow of streetlights.”

Complete Review at: LINK