This blog post compares how “The Departed” and “The Maltese Falcon” reveal desire and identity, offering an in-depth analysis of the noir-like tension and narrative differences presented by both works.
Introduction
Noir, meaning ‘black’ in French. For a long time, I naturally assumed that the term ‘noir’ referred to films with a dark, somber atmosphere. This perception isn’t just my own misunderstanding; it’s a confusion shared by many. People often judge a film as ‘noir’ simply by seeing a dark-toned crime movie. However, when we reframe the discussion around the keyword ‘identity,’ the narrative unfolds in a completely different direction.
When presented with the formula ‘noir = films of identity,’ the first work that came to mind was 「Infernal Affairs」. Judged by this formula, the film seems to boldly declare, “This is noir.” On the other hand, if you judge it by the conventional standard of ‘noir = dark film,’ well… 「Infernal Affairs」 feels too heavily saturated with blue tones to be considered truly dark. The classic noir atmosphere, capturing actors’ shadowed faces under harsh overhead lighting in pitch-black darkness—sure, Infernal Affairs has scenes like that too. Yet the most striking and crucial scenes in this film all have blue skies as their backdrop. Yet, viewed as a ‘film of identity,’ Infernal Affairs is noir, intensely noir.
What kind of film is The Departed?
Martin Scorsese won the Academy Award for Best Director for this film. It also clinched Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Film Editing, and Best Picture, securing a total of four Oscars. It was as shocking as Johan Cruyff kissing the World Cup trophy or Charles Barkley getting his hands on an NBA championship ring. Martin Scorsese’s films have always had a different texture from typical Hollywood movies, so for a long time, I thought it was only natural that he wouldn’t win at the Academy Awards, where the most Hollywood-like films are favored.
The film that brought Oscar glory to such a Scorsese, The Departed, is the Hollywood remake of Infernal Affairs. Compared to the original, this version has both strengths and weaknesses. It’s hard to say which is superior. However, the biggest difference I felt, the more I compared them, is that “The Departed” is tremendously ‘Hollywood-esque’. Made on American soil by Yankees, it’s only natural it reeks of butter, but personally, I found that a bit disappointing.
The sudden appearance of Inspector Dignam (Mark Wahlberg), a character not present in the original, was also initially disconcerting. However, it only made sense once I realized it was a device set up for the typical good-versus-evil ending where Colin (played by Matt Damon) is dealt with. Furthermore, the memorable rooftop scene with the blue sky from the original also appears in The Departed, but it fails to recreate the same profound resonance, which is a shame.
A friend once remarked after watching The Departed, “Infernal Affairs is finally complete. Only Hollywood can make a perfect film.” I, however, think the opposite. Hollywood today cannot make a perfect ‘noir’ film. If one were to search for a director capable of doing so, Martin Scorsese would be among them. Yet, in this work, he created a Hollywood film, not a noir. This makes me wonder if the Academy finally recognized Marty’s talent, albeit belatedly.
And personally, one of the biggest disappointments was that Robert De Niro does not appear in this film. If you stopped anyone on the street and asked, “When you think of a Martin Scorsese film, which actor comes to mind first?” most would likely say Robert De Niro. Of course, Jack Nicholson’s performance was superb. Martin Sheen, playing Commissioner Quinnan in opposition to him, also delivered a strong performance. However, he seemed to lack a bit of the power needed to stand up to Jack Nicholson’s overwhelming charisma. It leaves you wondering what it would have been like if Robert De Niro had taken that role. Of course, this is purely a personal observation, but this film definitely has a distinct difference from other Scorsese films featuring Robert De Niro.
Consider their first collaboration, Mean Streets. The anguish of protagonist Charlie (Harvey Keitel) holds its own against any in The Departed. The sight of bloodied protagonists scattering only heightens that anguish’s tragic intensity. The masterpiece Taxi Driver is no different. Is the heroic praise heaped upon Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) after the final shootout truly a Hollywood-style happy ending? Rather, that ambiguous ending—where it’s unclear whether it’s fantasy or reality—only serves to reveal Travis’s identity crisis in an even more tragic light. It is certainly not an ending where one can say, “And so Travis lived happily ever after.” What about “Raging Fist” or “Good Friends”?
Compared to those, the ending of this film, concluding with Colin’s death, strongly evokes the Hollywood formula. That said, one cannot simply dismiss it as “bad because it’s a Hollywood ending.” However, compared to the solemnity conveyed in the original Infernal Affairs—where Andy Lau salutes at Tony Leung’s grave, conveying the message that the struggle with identity persists eternally even within an absurd life—The Departed moves toward a far clearer and more definitive conclusion. (Of course, unlike the Hong Kong version, the Chinese version shows a completely different ending where Yu Jianming is arrested, but this is a result of Chinese government censorship and is beyond the scope of this discussion.)
Of course, one cannot definitively state, “The Departed is not noir. This is a typical Hollywood film.” Where the original focused on rapid plot progression, The Departed places greater emphasis on character psychology. Consequently, while it does have some slower moments compared to the original, the protagonists’ anguish is no less profound. Nevertheless, audiences tend to focus more on the progression and resolution of the case than on the ‘anguish of identity,’ making the film feel closer to a thriller than a noir.
So how close does The Departed come to noir? Is it a noir or a thriller? To answer this, I’ll compare it to a film considered the quintessential example of noir: John Huston’s 1941 masterpiece, The Maltese Falcon.
What kind of film is The Maltese Falcon?
One could use other Martin Scorsese films for comparison with The Departed. But why specifically The Maltese Falcon? Does The Maltese Falcon hold such status that it can be called the benchmark for all noir films, surpassing others?
This work clearly possesses a magnetic power that strongly draws in its viewers. If this were a standalone analysis of The Maltese Falcon, one might react with, “Oh, The Maltese Falcon again? I’m really getting tired of it.” This film has already been the subject of countless analyses and interpretations, making it extremely difficult to present a new argument that breaks free from existing frameworks. I don’t have the ability to make the outlandish claim that “This is a romantic comedy. Isn’t the tension between Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor adorable?” I don’t have the ability to make such an outlandish claim. However, I believe it is entirely possible to extract the key elements necessary for analyzing The Departed from The Maltese Falcon and use them as tools.
The protagonist of this film, Sam Spade (played by Humphrey Bogart), is not someone who directly drives the plot. He observes the events from a position that, while not quite that of a bystander, is close to that of an observer. Moreover, his demeanor is distinctly ‘cool’. This allows him to sharply dissect the desires of the characters involved in the case. So why did Sam throw himself into this vortex of desire? The reason is revealed in the final scene, during his conversation with Bridget (played by Mary Astor).
“No matter who I love, I can’t be the sacrificial lamb.”
“When a partner dies, you can’t just stand by. Whether you were close or not, they’re your partner, so you have to take action. That’s what being a detective is. If you ignore a murder case, your reputation takes a hit.”
“What lies beneath it all? Only the uncertain fact that they might love each other.”
This dialogue clearly shows the identity he ultimately discovers. It is precisely at this point that the film becomes a noir.
But here, we almost missed one crucial thing. It’s the question of how Sam discovered this identity. Even if noir is called the ‘cinema of identity,’ what matters is the method of discovering that identity. Noir finds identity within desire. And this genre, whose very name means ‘dark,’ represents the color of that desire. This point is paramount. One cannot raise their voice declaring, “My Life in Pink is also noir,” while missing this core.
How does desire shake identity?
Does desire lead to finding identity, or to losing it?
The police ask Sam.
“What is this?”
Sam Spade answers.
“The product of a delusional dream.”
In 「The Maltese Falcon」, the cause of all events lay in a single thing: the statue. Ultimately, it turned out to be fake, but what if it had been genuine? When Bridget asks, Sam says, “Don’t mistake me for a money-grubbing bastard.” But if it had been real, how would he have acted?
If the falcon had been genuine yet led to the same conclusion, this film would have remained a pure noir. Because Sam used that incident to solidify his identity even further. But conversely, if he had let everything crumble in the face of money, would his identity vanish, and should we say the film would have stepped outside the noir category?
It’s also implied that Sam could have gotten his hands on a large sum through his deal with Gutman and, as a result, not turned Bridget over to the police. If that were the case, would Sam lose his identity through that choice?
To avoid this confusion, we must revisit the definition of film noir. Noir is a film of identity. Yet, a ‘film of identity’ does not necessarily mean only narratives of ‘finding’ identity. Conversely, narratives of ‘losing’ identity can also be a branch of noir. Thus, the above question ultimately leads to the conclusion that no matter how the ending of The Maltese Falcon changes, it does not fundamentally affect the definition of the genre.
The Desires of the Protagonists in The Departed
In The Departed, desire is the element that most explicitly demonstrates the film’s noir character. It is the ‘desire to find one’s own identity’. Where the protagonist in The Maltese Falcon remains an observer of desire, the protagonists in The Departed exist as ‘agents’ struggling at the very center of desire.
First, consider Billy’s (Leonardo DiCaprio) desire. He was originally a police officer. However, after spending a long time mingling with gangsters and living as a spy, he experiences an identity crisis. Thus, he harbors a strong desire to reclaim his identity. Earlier, noir desire was described as ‘dark’—so can Billy’s desire also be called dark? In the second installment of the original Infernal Affairs series, the family history of the character corresponding to Billy (Zhen Yingren) reveals the deep hue of that desire, but The Departed offers almost no such clues. Does this mean Billy’s anguish is not noir-like?
What about Colin? Colin’s identity is as a gang spy, yet he seeks to sever ties with that organization and live a new life as a police officer. This too is difficult to simply label as ‘dark desire’. Rather, his desire appears closer to the light side.
However, the criterion for dividing desire into dark and light is not the desire itself. What matters is the ‘means’ used to achieve that desire. Like Frank (Jack Nicholson) in The Departed or Gutman (Sidney Greenstreet) in The Maltese Falcon, villains’ desires are often ‘money,’ but the desire for wealth itself isn’t inherently evil. Capitalism is driven by the desire for wealth. The problem lies in the means used to satisfy that desire; it is precisely those means that color the desire.
“The Departed”: A Film About Finding Identity, or Losing It?
Are the protagonists of “The Departed” finding their identity, or losing it? I believe the latter is more accurate. That is why they are consumed by the desire to reclaim their identity, struggling intensely. The fact that the means to achieve this desire—its color—is stained black is evidence of how severe their identity crisis is.
Colin’s case can be compared to Sam’s acquisition of the genuine Ma Jue statue. In the story of a detective who obtains a rare treasure, will he remain a righteous detective? Or will he become a criminal dealing in stolen goods?
Colin faces the same dilemma. Will he maintain his gang identity and live as a spy, or betray the organization and become a high-ranking officer in the Massachusetts police? While the choices appear different on the surface, their essence is identical.
The Collapse of Identity, the Birth of Noir
Identity in 「Infernal Affairs」 and the Case in 「The Departed」
Earlier, when comparing 「Infernal Affairs」 and 「The Departed」, I mentioned that the former focuses more on rapid plot development, while the latter places greater emphasis on the psychological portrayal of its characters. Paradoxically, however, the audience’s focus in 「Infernal Affairs」 is drawn to the struggle with identity, while in 「The Departed」, it is drawn to the unfolding of the plot.
Consequently, audiences perceive 「Infernal Affairs」 as a noir and 「The Departed」 as a thriller. Despite sharing the same source material, they feel like distinct genres. I believe this stems from 「The Departed」 directing its noir narrative through a thriller lens.
There are definite shortcomings in the direction of “The Departed.” Especially compared to the highly conclusive ending of “Infernal Affairs,” I find myself wanting to ask Scorsese why he felt compelled to resolve the story by ‘judging’ Colin’s evil deeds. (Of course, Scorsese chose to reinterpret it within Hollywood genre conventions rather than simply recreating the original.)
If noir aims to convey the protagonist’s anguish, a leisurely pace in presenting the events is actually counterproductive. The audience must not have the luxury of following the events slowly. The rapid pace must seize the audience’s initiative. Only then does the protagonist’s inner torment become more intensely highlighted.
Consider The Maltese Falcon. The plot unfolds so rapidly that the audience struggles to keep up. What The Departed critically lacked was precisely this sense of speed. While this may seem like a simple difference in narrative structure, it holds profound significance from a genre and aesthetic perspective.
Thriller audiences follow the plot and analyze it alongside the protagonist. But noir audiences must not ‘analyze’ the events; they must absorb the protagonist’s ‘agony’ as they live through them. What they must witness is not the events themselves, but the protagonist’s crumbling identity.
Billy, Colin, and Sam: The Struggle to Find Identity
So, can we conclude that “the original ‘Infernal Affairs’ is noir, but the remake ‘The Departed’ is not”? This question can be interpreted differently depending on the viewer’s perspective, and clearly dividing the boundaries between noir and thriller is practically impossible. However, by my standards, I believe this judgment holds some validity. It’s certainly regrettable that The Departed didn’t fully capture the depth of noir. That doesn’t diminish the film’s value, though. Rather, while it falls short as a noir, it stands as an exceptionally strong thriller.
Because of that regret, I want to revisit the noir anguish experienced by the protagonists in the film, with the mindset of ‘grieving over a dead child’. The identity crisis Sam faces in The Maltese Falcon is this:
Should he remain a righteous detective? Or should he pocket a fortune through dealing in stolen goods and be with the woman he loves, even though she has committed a crime? This paradox is the very heart of noir. While countless films extol love as the greatest value, in this work, love threatens justice. Even Jesus Christ said, “Among faith, hope, and love, love is the greatest,” but in noir, love often becomes the most dangerous choice.
In contrast, Billy in The Departed is a cop who protects justice and the law. Yet to uphold that law, he must live like a criminal. This, too, is a paradox.
Colin’s case is different. Will he remain a criminal to keep his loyalty? Or will he use underhanded means to become a cop? On the surface, becoming a cop seems the right choice, but making that choice requires killing many people. A contradictory situation unfolds: ‘committing terrible crimes to live rightly.’
So, is the anguish experienced by the protagonists of The Departed less than that endured by Sam in The Maltese Falcon? Absolutely not. In fact, Scorsese clearly exposed this anguish. Yet, personally, I still believe Martin Scorsese should not have won an Oscar for this film.
Conclusion
There is no such thing as a 100% pure genre film in the world. However, analyzing The Departed presented particular difficulties for two reasons. First, it is a remake with a distinct original source material. Since the original can be clearly defined as noir, I couldn’t help but feel confused by the subtle genre dissonance the remake exhibits. Second, this film is by Martin Scorsese, one of my favorite directors. Had another director made it, I would have praised it as an excellent thriller. But the moment Scorsese’s name is attached, expectations naturally rise much higher.
Finally, I’d like to conclude by pointing out the decisive commonalities and differences revealed in the endings of The Maltese Falcon, Infernal Affairs, and The Departed.
Sam turns the criminals over to the police, but we cannot definitively say he has firmly taken the side of justice. Bridget descends in an elevator, Sam down the stairs. Their methods differ, but ultimately, both are ‘going down.’ Where are they headed? Sam, Bridget, and perhaps all of us—we may simply be taking different paths, ultimately heading toward the same place.
Jin Young-in is buried in the police cemetery as a police officer. At the funeral, the one saluting at the very front is Yoo Geon-myeong. On the surface, it seems both men achieved their respective goals. Yet, like the final subtitle stating, “Those who enter the Avici Hell never die, and their suffering never ends,” it leaves the impression that even though the person is gone, the suffering endures forever.
In contrast, what of The Departed? The criminal Colin is executed by Detective DeGum. ‘The wicked must be punished.’ This is the quintessential Hollywood ending.
