Infernal Affairs Iii Apr 2026

A must-watch for fans of the trilogy. Skip it if you haven’t seen the first two. Watch it for Andy Lau’s career-best performance.

The non-linear editing is ambitious. The film jumps between three time periods without hand-holding. For attentive viewers, this reveals clever parallels and tragic ironies. For casual viewers, it can feel frustratingly opaque. The film assumes you have the first two movies memorized. It rewards rewatching but punishes distraction. Infernal Affairs III

This is where the trilogy shows its seams. Infernal Affairs III tries to do too much. The subplot involving a shady Chinese security officer (Chen Daoming) feels grafted on from a different, more political thriller. It muddies the water rather than deepening the mythos. Furthermore, the absence of the tight, propulsive editing of the first film is felt. Some scenes meander, and the emotional impact is diluted by the constant time-jumping. A must-watch for fans of the trilogy

If you want more of the first film’s brilliant cat-and-mouse game, you’ll be disappointed. But if you want to see a masterful actor (Andy Lau) chart a man’s complete psychological collapse, and if you appreciate ambitious, if messy, storytelling, this is a solid and essential conclusion. It’s the Godfather Part III of the trilogy: flawed, overstuffed, and occasionally baffling, but unforgettable in its final, haunting moments. The non-linear editing is ambitious

Andy Lau has never been better. In the first film, his Lau was a cool, calculating predator. Here, the facade cracks. Lau’s journey into insomnia, hallucinations, and sheer panic is devastating to watch. He is no longer a villain; he is a broken man trapped in a prison of his own making. The film’s most brilliant stroke is using the ghost of Tony Leung’s Yan—the undercover cop Lau helped kill—as a silent, accusing apparition. These moments are less about ghost stories and more about the manifestation of irredeemable guilt.

Leon Lai’s addition as Yeung is also a high point. He brings a quiet, unnerving stillness that perfectly counterpoints Lau’s frayed nerves. Is he internal affairs? A triad plant? A guardian angel? The ambiguity is the point, and Lai plays it with surgical precision.

The biggest flaw, however, is the underutilization of the supporting cast. Anthony Wong’s SP Wong appears only in flashbacks, and while his scenes are poignant, they lack the weight of his presence in the first two films. Kelly Chen’s character is reduced to a near-cameo.