Infernal Affairs (I, II, III)
Infernal Affairs I
You know a film has got guts when a huge plot twist is both the opening scene and the main plot setup. It knows it has more to show. The focus here is not on shock value (shock is still here), nor is it purely about classic plot twists (although plots within plots exist), but more so on the tension building between these nodes and connections between its main characters. I might use an overused word here and call this a character study, but again, it is much more than that. It uses the chemistry and interactions between the main players to ask deeper and deeper moral questions that sometimes break the fourth wall in a very self-reflective way.
To do all this, you need a very solid base to build upon, and the first pillar of that base is the (in my opinion) main actors, Andy Lau as inspector Kin-ming Lau, Tony Leung as undercover cop Wing-yan Chan, and Eric Tsang as the Triad crime organization boss, and supporting them is Anthony Wong as superintendent Chi-shing Wong. These first three, individually, give stellar performances as expected of actors of their experience and caliber. Their acting adds to the dramatisation of the story.
The second foundation pillar of this masterpiece is the directing of Andrew Lau and Alan Mak. Each scene is intense in its own right, but the way that they are strung together creates an unrelenting thriller and action. The cinematography also plays a big part in the dramatisation and the tension building with closeups and wide panning shots that set the players geographically and aesthetically.
But the crowing achievement must go to the editing. To build tension and string it together throughout the runtime so that a 100-minute film feels like 30, you need some tight editing. Each scene is filled with quick edits but also leaves room to breathe for some of the more artistic shots. The same goes for entire sequences and the entire film; despite a seemingly hectic pace, it never feels like we’re out of breath.
This film does away with all the “filler” and leaves us with the core elements to create this experience, yet it doesn’t feel “naked” because of the union of all these elements. It has a strong tasteful aesthetic that makes it a living experience that one never fails to come back to over and over again despite knowing every plot point.
The music is grandiose but plays well in the mix, and it never feels distracting.
Now for the actual film itself and its themes; the main and most obvious theme is the schizophrenic existence and suffering of a mole, a double agent leading to an identity crisis, a somewhat classic struggle, but here we see it from at least two sides; we see how different people under different circumstances deal with it. When you live long enough in someone else’s skin, it’s hard to tell who is the “real” you if it ever existed in the first place, and you’re left in this void to make life-altering decisions, but which life does it affect? That one you had and hid or the one you’re truly living now? These decisions extend morally to shape the character and destroy every boundary between good and bad. Are our protagonists good or bad guys? Can we call someone a good guy or a bad guy? Or are they victims of the forces that be, slaves to their circumstances and roles within the power play of society and even countries? There are also in-your-face Buddhist quotes that start and end the film, talking about the worst of hells, the continuous, never-ending hell.
With each revisit, I’m surprised with more and more layers of meaning and depth, but it’s never just out of my sick need to overanalyze; it’s also about a thrilling dramatic action ride, it’s about cinema.
Infernal Affairs II
Infernal Affairs 2 is a sequel that is a prequel, a past that continues and connects the future and present.
A prequel usually comes to fill in the gaps in some backstory, complete a puzzle with the missing pieces, and maybe add something along the way. Here it goes one and many steps beyond just ticking those checkboxes. Rather than (just) answering questions, the film delves deeper into those questions and raises others. The same can be said for the themes; it is a further exploration of those same themes. It not only completes a picture, but it also frames and contextualizes it.
Time. That is the keyword for getting outside the frame and seeing the whole picture. The film is very explicit and expository in its themes, so explicit in the fact that it writes it out in a big bold font during the opening scene. This explicitness in any other film or context would be a failure, but here the core themes are laid out bare to ease the viewer into the world and let them sink in deeper and ponder these moral dilemmas.
As I’ve said, and as the film stated with its big bold font, this prequel is a continuation, a past into the present, because time is a circle, hell is continuous, and suffering is eternal. And this is exactly what we get here. An exploration of the inescapable circle of time.
From the first scene to the last we are exposed to audiovisual cues and motifs depicting the changes of time. The soundtrack, editing, and directing are united in this effort. Two scenes that highlight this come to mind; the first meeting scene between the inspector and Sam, and the killing of the triad bosses. The first scene’s job is to take us back to a different era, not as a flashback but as a jump in time to put the first film into perspective.
The synchronicity of the triad bosses scene is a classic homage to the first Godfather film with its baptism scene and the rise of Michael to power.
The changing times are also an important part of this play. There are constant references to the advancements in communication, connecting the world; business in Hawaii is instantaneously done in Hong Kong. The changing of times also paints the political scene, depicting a very important moment in the history of HK when the British handed it back to China, ending colonial rule and beginning the era of One China Two Policies/Systems.
Time is more than just a framing tool for the story, it is also a tool for characterization. Events from the first Infernal Affairs are parodied over and over to peel away the layers and expose the characters because, despite the focus on the themes, the film leaves room for understanding characters’ shifting motivations through time. The deeper we look the more corruption we see, from the lowest of the low to the highest. Every institution is corrupt, the triads, the police, and even entire countries. Everyone is literally and figuratively in bed with one another.
The other major theme is the Buddhist aspects of this universe. The first is hell and endless suffering. We watch the beginning of how each person spirals down, crosses that line of no return, and descends into the eternal recurring hell where no limits exist, and where you can never go too far.
As far as technicalities go, this one follows suit and maintains the consistent quality from the first film. The actors even feel more comfortable in their roles. Our familiarity with the characters furthers the impact of the acting. The consistency of the style and aesthetic merges the first two parts of this story on yet another level, making the transition feel seamless and the story whole.
Our prior knowledge of the fates of those involved in this story makes every bit of tension and drama hit harder. But one can also say that it is too revealing, that it broke the mystery and charm of the first Affair. Both are equally true. The breaking of the mystery was the price for the completion of the tapestry.
Infernal Affairs III
It will never be easy to follow up a film such as the first Infernal Affairs, and it will never be easy to conclude such time warps as those of Infernal Affairs II. This film carried so many expectations with it, too many in fact that it is impossible to enter it unbiased with an unfiltered view having seen the first two installments. It is also too intertwined with those two that it is impossible to separate it from them and judge it on its own. This film cannot stand on its own, yet despite that strong base it never stands at all.
It fell into its own vicious loop of timelines within timelines, it tries to conclude a story and within it fill the gaps in another.
The time jumps are too jarring and misplaced, the new characters are cold and distant, and they only feel plot devices to fill in the gaps in the overall arching story. A lot of this felt unnecessary, as much as the idea of seeing the repercussions of intense drama fold out it is equally exhaustive and ultimately superfluous. It does not take away from the whole experience, it just adds a bit too much and almost overstays its welcome. I say almost because this film still has some of the merits of its predecessors, the acting, despite feeling disjointed and somewhat untrue to the characters, is still enjoyable on its own.
Even from the start, this felt a bit off, a bit too uncanny. The tone of the opening scene, among others, just doesn’t fit into the entire picture. It is trying to create an unwanted and superficial intimacy with characters we already know.
The feelings felt for losing such characters are too deep for what this third film is trying to do.
This symmetry-breaking tone continues into the structure and editing of the film; despite its relatively long runtime, everything feels either too fast or too slow.
The film’s best bet would’ve been to stick with the Andy Lau timeline after the death of Tony Leung’s character. This going back and forth is emotionally disingenuous and is simply tedious to watch.
These mixed tones and timelines don’t leave any room for drama despite the high potential for drama during this epitaph.
Sometimes, oft times, art is knowing when to let go, and sometimes three is too much and two is good enough.
