He wears wigs. He turns, oh yes, fair. He switches back to dark. He romances a lissome lass. And he does that thing — you know, throwing something, and catching it in the mouth with chewing gum, cigarettes being very bad, now. It is all sublime nonsense. No Hindi movie star can hope to scintillate thus.

It’s a story Shankar has told several times, of a good guy fighting a corrupt system, and winning. But he’s never had a bigger hero, or a more baroque canvas. The set-pieces, especially for the song-and-dances, outdo anything that Bollywood has ever dreamt of. They are outré, they are outlandish, they must have cost crores.

The climax has villains flying in the air, Crouching Tiger style, as Sivaji cuts a mighty swathe through them. Who needs Tamil, when it is all about non-verbal pyrotechnics scorching the screen?

Rajni rocks.