Half-way through Aks there is an arresting portraiture-level visual of Manoj Bajpai meditating in a cave behind a cascading waterfall, before taking on the might of the burly Bachchan.

After viewing Aks, I too underwent a similar experience. Only I meditated over the film's profound yet only-intermittently-communicated message over a cup of tea in a quiet corner of an overcrowded Udipi restaurant.

Interpretations about the film's deeper meaning took birth and died while I absent-mindedly sipped tea. What stayed in mind were the film's images. Vivid. Visually stimulating. Visceral.

Rakesh Mehra's Aks is the cinema of the image - Manoj Bajpai racing through the forest hunting a wolf, a blade flashing in a cave or a climax set against dark grey skies and sinister-looking rocks of a surreal, never never world. Mehra's Aks fits right into a world where the 'image' is fast challenging the 'word' as the prime medium of communication.

The film's first half plays like a thriller that seeks to rock your socks but where alas your interest is kept alive more by the fascinatingly-shot skein of visuals, than by the plot. Amitabh Bachchan plays Manu, a security chief (his aptness for the role is sought to be underlined by a character who emphasizes that he is looking fit).

Amitabh is supervising the security for an Indian minister (Amol Palekar resurrected) on a diplomatic visit to picturesque Budapest.

This gives the director an opportunity to frame shots encompassing the architectural glories of the erstwhile Austro-Hungarian empire but doesn't give Amitabh an opportunity to prove his worth. The minister gets a bullet through his head and an ubiquitous floppy goes missing. Amitabh launches a mission to find the killer who is leaving a cheeky signature after each new killing.

Back in India, Amitabh learns without much ado that the impudent killer is Raghavan (Manoj Bajpai), a societal reject who has a twisted take on the Geeta's 'Na Koi Maarta hai; na koi marta hai' which he uses to justify his remorseless killings. A psychotic creature with a manic panic laugh, he has a primeval relationship with club dancer Nita (Raveena Tandon). Amitabh, however, hooks him, he is thrown into jail, the judge throws the book at him and Manoj is hanged.

But Manoj's 'na koi marta hai' catchline comes back to haunt Amitabh when he finds that his own body is now playing host to Manoj's spirit and is being used to further Manoj's dense deceits and desires. Brrr. Now Amitabh is a danger to his own wife (Nandita Das) and young daughter.

The metaphysical climax suggests that evil can only be transposed or controlled, not eradicated. There's always a new candidate to house it.

Aks has an interesting premise - it uses Amitabh as the symbol of good, Manoj Bajpai as embelemetic of evil. It puts them both in the same body and tries to say that every body is the battleground between good and evil.

But the film runs the very real danger of being seen as just a superior supernatural thriller. Because unfortunately the film's too vague and open to interpretation. Worse, it's not entirely convincing. It's too indistinct whether the evil was already within Amitabh or if it was Manoj's proximity that gave birth to it. Also the fact that Amitabh is seen to vanquish the evil within him finally, seems to be in variance to the film's belief that good and evil co-exist as mirror images.

Opaque it may be, but the film has compensations. After years, Amitabh gets a meaty role befiting his metier. He chews on it with cannibalistic relish getting right down to Manu Verma's bare bones. Watch him in the scene where he clings to Nandita begging for help revealing taht he's scared. Personally, I think he enjoyed playing the evil self even more; maybe I enjoyed watching that more.

Manoj Bajpai wears the role a closely as one of his character's masks. He brings an elemental earthy quality to his role. And his balletic hand gestures might seem an embarrassment on another actor - but Manoj carries it off.

Raveena's dances have an erotic charge and her amoral character is a refreshing change for the actress but Nandita Das' role as a dutiful wife has in-built drawbacks. In the first half her character's peripheral; in the second crucial but conventional. Nandita however has an extremely endearing screen presence. And to her credit, she resists melodrama, a temptation that lies deceptively concealed in such a role like landmines in a battlefield.

Finally, Aks' grasp may be higher than its reach but it does serve up some food for thought. At least it attempts to push the envelope in terms of form, content and message.