The Departed

American remakes of popular Asian thrillers usually get handed to lesser directors and actors.

But "The Departed," which borrows most of its plot from a 2002 Hong Kong movie, "Infernal Affairs," was directed by Martin Scorsese. It marks the first time he's worked with Jack Nicholson and Matt Damon, and the third time in a row he's collaborated with Leonardo DiCaprio.

The result is exciting, preposterous, dazzling, occasionally outrageous — a police thriller with never a slow moment and with plenty of reasons for displaying all that star power. The supporting cast, including Mark Wahlberg as a relentless drill-sergeant cop and Vera Farmiga as a shrink with divided loyalties, is just as impressive.

The story, relocated from Hong Kong to contemporary Boston, focuses on two rookie cops, played by DiCaprio and Damon, whose loyalties can be difficult to read. DiCaprio's Billy Costigan is an undercover cop who learns to be as brutal as the criminals who adopt him. Damon's Colin Sullivan is a mole in the police department, tough and ingenious but vulnerable in ways that aren't immediately clear.

Billy and Colin, under different names, were the central characters in the 2002 film. Now they're almost equal with the bad guy, Nicholson's Frank Costello, whose Hong Kong incarnation had less screen time. Frank may be based partly on a real Boston underworld figure who disappeared more than a decade ago, but the three-time Oscar winner instantly transforms him into a demonic, Nicholson-esque villain with a distinctively sadistic sense of humor.

Scorsese and his veteran cinematographer, Michael Ballhaus, introduce Frank as almost literally a prince of darkness: a scary silhouette rather than a whole human being. The people he taunts and bullies may look normal, but their lives are hideously restricted by this walking shadow. Eventually he emerges into the light, yet his power over his victims never recedes.

He's the kind of ogre who fascinates children, and he's introduced through the eyes of a child actor (Conor Donovan) who plays the young Colin. The boy brings out Frank's paternal side as well as his ruthlessness. Frank senses Colin's loyalty and exploits it by planting him in Boston's police department.

The other characters, including Frank's violent sidekick, Mr. French (Ray Winstone), and a shrewd police captain, Queenan (Martin Sheen), are presented much more realistically.

DiCaprio (never better) sees Billy as a committed cop trying to forget his family's criminal past. He can barely suppress his rage as his loyalty and competence are questioned by both the police and the crooks. Damon's Colin is, almost inevitably, a more slippery creature. He's been raised to deceive, and Damon finds the hollowness at his core.

Working once more with his dynamic editor, Thelma Schoonmaker, Scorsese cuts back and forth among these three characters, often putting an ironic spin on visual similarities and differences. There are few rest stops, yet the filmmakers are never guilty of flashy MTV cutting. The abrupt shifts from one character to another are handled with intelligence, passion and a sense that each of the three is essential to the story.

Still, Nicholson is the one you'll be talking about as you leave the theater. He brings such menacing confidence to his interpretation of Frank Costello that you never question his authority. The performance is so forceful that you can't help wondering where all that monstrous assurance came from.

Initially reluctant to appear in "The Departed," Nicholson signed on for the chance to play the nastiest heavy he's tackled since the 1989 version of "Batman," in which his over-the-top Joker kept Michael Keaton's caped hero on his toes. The role of Costello was beefed up especially for Nicholson, and he reportedly ad-libbed his way through much of the script.

The latest in a series of psychopathic Scorsese villains, he has much in common with Joe Pesci's casually homicidal gangster in "GoodFellas" and Daniel Day-Lewis' savage Bill the Butcher in "Gangs of New York." There's also a touch of Jack Torrance, the unhinged family man Nicholson played in Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining."

The original "Infernal Affairs" (available on DVD), which has already spawned a prequel and a sequel, starred Tony Leung Chiu-wai, Andy Lau and, in the villain's role, Eric Tsang. Tsang played the character as a standard-issue heavy, but screenwriter William Monahan ("Kingdom of Heaven") helps to turn him into what one character calls the "rock star" of gangsters.

Monahan, who writes dialogue that's both smart and profane, clearly felt free to depart from the "Infernal Affairs" screenplay on several occasions. The result is a longer, denser, more complicated movie — and at times a less credible one. The cellphone contacts between Frank and Colin are deftly used to generate tension and humor, but they also become increasingly absurd.

At one point, Queenan surprises Colin when he's talking to "dad" (his contact name for Frank), and it looks like the jig is up. It isn't, but why isn't it? The scene introduces the idea that Colin would probably have been exposed long ago in a police department alerted to the presence of a mole.

Scorsese goes so far as to say that "The Departed" is "not a remake" but a film "inspired" by "Infernal Affairs." This seems disingenuous, especially when he borrows so many visual touches from the original: a shocking fall that kills a major character, the climactic panoramic rooftop battle, the camera's fixation on an elevator door that automatically keeps trying to close on the legs of a dead man.

In early 2005, Scorsese came close to winning a long-overdue Academy Award for directing "The Aviator," which still ended up with more Oscars (five) than any previous Scorsese picture. "The Departed" is being pitched as his latest contender, the one that may earn him the top prize after such best-picture nominees as "Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull" and "GoodFellas" failed to pull it off.

That seems unlikely. As thrilling and polished as it is, "The Departed" is, like its source, a genre picture, and the top Oscars rarely go to police thrillers. The most obvious exception is "The French Connection" (1971), but would today's Academy voters go for it?

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