Pulls you in.

Rating: 7/10 (26 May 2007)

"The Departed," a complicated story of two cops undercover on each side of the law, one of them in the pay of head Irish mafioso, Jack Nicholson, has Martin Scorsese's usual dash. It would be hard to mistake the film as having been made by some unimaginative dullard. The camera swoops grandly about, punctuated by the odd overhead shot, the actors perform at their peaks, intrigue informs every act, the violence occurs as necessary and isn't exulted over. Scorcese knows what he's doing.
I'm not sure, though, that he's able to get inside this loosely organized bunch of non-Latin thugs, or inside the justice system of Boston. This is a kind of tense story that really belongs in Sidney Lumet territory -- marginalized spies with multiple identities, and lots of frustration. Neither of the spies (Leonardo DiCaprio, the good spy, and Matt Damon, the boyishly charming instrument of Nicholson) manages to show any guilt or ambivalence about their jobs, which leaves the film with a considerable psychological and ethical lacuna. Damon is full of zest and worried about nothing but keeping his gangster boss informed of everything the cops are up to. DeCaprio is a neural shambles but not because he feels queasy about being a spy among people he's come to know. He's just frazzled over the possibility of being outed and killed. Still, everything rolls along so quickly that we hardly miss it. And everything is aided magisterially by the quick-witted dialog. Alec Baldwin, head honcho at the State Troopers asks Damon what happened to a suspected murderer. Damon: "He got knifed in the hawspital." Baldwin: "Yeah, but what I want to know is cui bono? Who benefits?" Damon: "Cui gives a ****? It's all wrapped up with a bow on it." Baldwin blesses Damon, making the sign of the cross in the air, says, "I think you are on your way to becoming a cawp," and buries his face in a bowl of ice water. We have just witnessed about fifteen seconds of cinematic delight.
Any weaknesses are not Scorsese's fault, though. Here he's working from a screenplay written by an Irish-American who's given him what amounts to an unusually mechanical plot, and the story itself is lifted from a Chinese source. So it's already gone through three step-up transducers and it's no surprise that it lacks the emotional grip of Scorsese's best work.
It's still successful and it gets a lot of help from the cast. Nicholson is hilariously evil with his goatee and those of his improvisations that have been preserved. (When he shoots a babe in the back of the head, he looks down at her body quizzically and remarks, "She fell funny." And, "When there's a cop in my gang and I don't know who it is, I usually kill 'em all.") Matt Damon does a fine job too, and he has his Boston accent down pat. He's so business-like and full of zest as a sergeant in the State Police that he comes across as the kind of cop we all wish were on the job. I haven't seen that much of Leonardo DiCaprio's movies but of the performances I've seen, this is his best. He's rather rattier looking than in the past and he demonstrates a convincing loss of control. There's a woman, too, who physically links the good and the bad undercover cops, who do not know each other. Vera Farmiga isn't synapse-fusingly gorgeous. The bony structure of her face is askew. She looks like a dozen actresses who might be found laboring in the fields of afternoon romantic dramas or support in modest situation comedies, but there's something still that distinguishes her from so many other women who resemble Jennifer Aniston. She can really act. She's not given the best dialog and her character is a little confusingly written but, boy, she can make a simple movement of her hand into a statement. Also she's built. Imagine Cate Blanchett, more petite and slightly lopsided. Ken Wahlberg, as Sergeant Dignam, may give the best performance of all.
I enjoyed it. Maybe not immensely, but enough to have found a good deal of pleasure in it.