"Infernal Affairs"

This Hong Kong hit from 2002, starring Andy Lau and Tony Leung and just now being released here, is one of the truest American gangster films of all time.

By Stephanie Zacharek

Sep 24, 2004 | The Hong Kong hit "Infernal Affairs" -- a picture made in 2002 by Andrew Lau and Alan Mak that's just now reaching these shores -- is one of the truest American gangster films of all time. Although Hollywood churns out a a new cop thriller just about every other week, we've forgotten how to make true gangster films, a genre we consider quintessentially American to the point where we feel we no longer have to work at it.

No matter how many times filmmakers from other countries -- from Jean-Luc Godard to John Woo -- have grabbed the gangster film away from us and returned it to us, reinvented and reinvigorated, we continue to be lax in rising to the bait. There have been notable exceptions (within the last 11 years or so, "Carlito's Way" and "Donnie Brasco," to name two). But even though many of our cop thrillers feature gangsters of one sort or another (and even though they often make big money, worldwide), so many of these pictures clump together into a generically dull ball. It's gotten to the point where we need Hong Kong to remind America who it is.

"Infernal Affairs" just does that. Lau (Andy Lau) is a Hong Kong cop assigned to find a mole in his department: The traitor, whoever he is, has been feeding information to a powerful gangster outfit led by a beefy thug named Sam (Eric Tsang). Chan (Tony Leung) is an undercover cop who has been working with Sam's gang for years -- the only person who knows his true identity is his boss, Wong (Anthony Wong). The twist is that Lau is the mole (a plot detail that's revealed early in the picture, so no spoiler alert required).

The setup -- a good guy pretends to be a bad one, while a bad guy masquerades as good -- is classic, but what Andrew Lau and Mak do with it makes all the difference. "Infernal Affairs" takes many of its cues from American cop movies like Michael Mann's "Heat": The story is cut together from stylish shards that are distinctly Mannish, and even its daytime scenes have that desolate city-at-twilight feel, a vibe that Mann has been so adept at capturing. (The picture's cinematographers are Lai Yiu Fi and Andrew Lau. And to clear up any potential confusion: Andy Lau, the movie's star, is no relation to the movie's director. But the director and the cinematographer are indeed the same person.)

But while one of the great pleasures of watching "Infernal Affairs" lies in seeing how Andrew Lau and Mak use stylistic, compact dots and dashes to fill in the myriad details of the complicated story (smartly written by Felix Chong and Mak), the heart of the picture is the shadowy relationship, and contrast between, its two main characters, Chan and Lau. If you're already seeing visions of that blinking neon sign spelling out "Duality!" don't run away just yet. For my money, the concept of duality is the biggest yawn in movies. I suspect that, at least as far as it's been explored in the movies, the idea that two characters are very different on the surface yet -- get this! -- actually very similar deep down was invented by and for movie critics to show how smart they think they are.

There's no phony duality setup -- no brothers-under-the-skin crapola -- in "Infernal Affairs." Although both Chan and Lau are cops, they're distinct versions of very different things, and the movie never lets us forget it. Andy Lau's Detective Lau wears narrow, trimly tailored suits, and his gait is so elegantly studied that it actually appears relaxed. Lau, as a bad guy in cop's clothing, would wear impeccably tailored suits as part of his disguise.

Next Page: Lau has a face like a grave elf

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