Grisoni demands rapt attention by keeping the intentions and the primary plot threads hidden. You care about getting to the bottom of the mystery, but even if this had ended without a resolution, that wouldn't have detracted from the gripping drama.
Three powerful movies about police corruption in Northern England had me squirming in my seat. The only complaint, and it's a small one, is the apparently authentic Yorkshire accents were hard to understand at times. English subtitles would help.
One leaves this long but fascinating series appalled at the level of depravity one tiny corner of the globe can hold, but strangely exhilarated--as well as moved--by the craft and cunning with which it's been portrayed.
The music, the wardrobe, the hair and cars and manners and all feel credibly specific, yet they impart a sick-making sense of familiarity. The sort of wrongdoing these films depict is, terribly, timeless.
The level of corruption, police violence and "we do what we bloody want" mentality is genuinely shocking, making the serial killings seem almost like a symptom of a community that has become rotten to the core.