Ramanujam, or Ambi as everyone calls him, is an idealistic lawyer who believes in the system. He files cases against litterers, queue-jumpers, and tax evaders — and loses every single one. The world refuses to follow rules, and his quiet frustration slowly curdles into something dangerous. When a personal tragedy pushes him past his breaking point, his fractured mind creates two alternate personalities: Remo, a suave fashion model who pursues the woman Ambi loves, and Anniyan, a merciless vigilante who delivers punishments inspired by the Garuda Purana to those who escape the law.
What follows is a psychological cat-and-mouse game where Ambi must confront the monster living inside his own head before it destroys everything — and everyone — he cares about.
Vikram: The Soul of the Film There is no Anniyan without Vikram. He delivers what many critics and fans still consider the finest performance of his career. Ambi's nervous stammer, Remo's flamboyant swagger, and Anniyan's cold, theatrical fury are three distinct creations — different voices, different postures, different eyes. The transformation scenes, particularly the one where he cycles through personalities in front of Prakash Raj, remain a masterclass in acting. Without this performance, the film's ambitious concept would have collapsed under its own weight.
Shankar's Grand Spectacle Director Shankar brings his trademark scale to every frame. The vigilante punishments are staged with operatic flair, the songs are mounted lavishly, and the visual effects — groundbreaking for Tamil cinema in 2005 — still hold up in their ambition, even if some shots show their age. Shankar uses the thriller framework to deliver his usual sermon on civic responsibility, and while the messaging can feel heavy-handed, it gives the film a moral spine that elevates it beyond a simple revenge fantasy.
Music and Comic Relief Harris Jayaraj's soundtrack is one of the film's greatest assets. "Kannum Kannum Nokia" became an instant anthem, while "Iyengaaru Veetu Azhage" and "Andangkaka" showcase the album's range. Equally important is Vivek's comic track, which provides necessary breathing room between the film's darker psychological sequences — his timing keeps the film from becoming suffocating.
Where It Stumbles The film is not without flaws. At nearly three hours, the pace sags in the second half, and the romantic track between Remo and Nandini, while entertaining, stretches thin. Some of the CGI — particularly in the climax — has aged noticeably, and the film's treatment of mental illness is more cinematic device than medical reality. Shankar also recycles thematic territory from his own Indian and Mudhalvan, which sharp-eyed viewers will notice.
