Reviewed by Tim Wong

THE HOOK to Infernal Affairs (not to be confused with Internal Affairs) is its killer premise: a fated confrontation between two protagonists-antagonists with hidden agendas and loyalties, designed to keep us second-guessing until its inevitable, mano a mano climax. Set up seemingly to reinvent the bad cop/good cop proviso, the film makes a point of introducing its two yet-to-be defined characters in flashback. During police training, Yan (Tony Leung) is plucked fresh from academy to assimilate long-term into the burgeoning Hong Kong Triad society as an undercover police informer; alternatively Ming (Andy Lau) is recruited by the gangs before joining the police force, masquerading as a cop who's really a Triad informer.


It's a hypothesis to a potentially explosive outcome that offers some interesting opportunities, mostly with the Yan character, who has become so institutionalised in the crime underworld, he no longer can rationalise the ideal of justice and duty anymore. Indeed, both leads lament at one point or another over their moral dilemma, overplaying the emotional bouts of self-doubt and disillusionment that's typical of this type of cinema.

What's interesting about Infernal Affairs is that it's so determined to be presentable, disassociating itself from the jugular roots of Asian cinema in favour of a high-gloss, ultra-slick 21st century rendering. If the goal of directors Andrew Lau and Alan Mak is to imitate the Hollywood demeanour and move on from the pluckier merits of such former Triad-genre hits like Young & Dangerous (itself directed by Lau), then they succeed, at least aesthetically. It's somewhat saddening, considering this is apparently the new face of Hong Kong cinema, and that the likes of John Woo, Tsui Hark and Jackie Chan – essential filmmakers of the iconic 80's and 90's – have effectively moved on.

Infernal Affairs does have its distinctions; notably, as a tight, high-concept thriller that's entirely accessible, with enough bells and whistles (and pretty faces) to hold anyone's gaze for 100 minutes. And while Tony Leung merely waltzes through, he's clearly the best actor out of China today. Perhaps the film's most redeeming quality is its most restrained; Lau and Mak, despite obvious temptations, purge the proceedings of apocalyptic destruction and operatic gun battles – usually the domain of the Hong Kong action genre – for more talking and staring and bearing. With at least four of the biggest names in Hong Kong pop culture, we get lots of lingering, Chris Doyle-assisted close-ups; a change from Mexican standoffs, but there's only so much superficial contemplation one can take. This is fine for the impressionable, but for the Hong Kong Cinema cultist, it's kinda disheartening. I conceed: they just don't quite make 'em like to used too.