Raghavan nails the grimy, grotty feel of a James Hadley Chase novel, where everyone is is either bad, greedy, villainous, plain amoral, or simply, a combination of all of the above. The colours are bold, the palette bolder, and barring one overlong scene featuring a hysterical Ashwini, everything zips along, dotted with a jolt here, a surprise there. And the throbbing score fits right in.

So do the actors. Dharmendra, who mouths this classic line " it's not the age, it's the mileage', could be speaking for himself. Vinay, who adeptly presses his wife's feet (her nails painted an outré black, befitting a suburban beautician) is terrific. As is Zakir Husain who's always sounding off at Vinay but is deeply fond of him (they are blood brothers, see, so what if they are criminals?). They make you believe.

And above all, Neil, son of Nitin, grandson of the legend, who combines seeming innocence and guile with a chilling gift of killing, to make one of the most memorable debuts in recent times. He is never loud; he blends in, and he stands out.