One film. Three parts. Six hours. Do you have the time? Probably not, but we do. SPREAD ArtCulture took up residence in New York’s IFC Center for “The Red Riding Trilogy,” a film that was made last year for British television and a film that critic David Thomson billed as “Better than the ‘Godfather.’” Though the two films are complete opposites in almost every way, sans their length, it made for an interesting day to be shut out of the sun.

Three directors breathed life into the film interpretation of David Peace’s epic quartet of novels—Julian Jarrold (Becoming Jane), James Marsh (Man on Wire), and Anand Tucker (Hillary and Jackie)—and the result is a three-act symphony of avant-garde nouveau film noir that is delivered in one dose. “Red Riding” is based on true events that transpired in Yorkshire in the 1970s, when a community was in uproar and fearful of a man the local police force had dubbed “The Ripper.” He had been wreaking havoc for some time before he killed sixteen-year old Jane McDonald, the first of his victims that was not a prostitute.

David Peace, author of the series, was a child growing up in Yorkshire as this was going on. He felt a rather personal connection to this case, and set up a makeshift detective agency in his garage with his younger brother. “I was ten years old, living only five miles away from the place where it happened, and I had just started to read Sherlock Holmes novels. And in the ridiculous way you do things as a child, I thought that I would somehow try and catch the Yorkshire Ripper. My brother and I set up a little detective agency in the garage and cut out all the clippings about the case from a newspaper that my parents got. That was the extent of what we did.”

The directors chosen to make these films also feel personal connections to the case. James Marsh, who directed “Red Riding 1980″ says, “I grew up in the West of England, and everyone at that time was aware of the crimes of the Yorkshire Ripper, which unfolded in slow motion over a period of years and haunted many people’s upbringing, mine included. There was this tape that we actually use in the film, a tape believed to be the real killer in his real voice taunting the police. It was just chilling. That enters your imagination in a particular kind of way, and connects you with something that’s truly evil when you’re young and impressionable.”

Eddie Dunford, played by Andrew Garfield, in Red Riding

The “Red Riding Trilogy” is set primarily in the Yorkshire town of Leeds, in Northern England. The long, panning shots of the looming and tenebrous moors are breathtaking; such muted cinematic brilliance evokes memories of the subdued woodland shots from Lars von Trier’s “Antichrist.” The cragged blue moor grass flutters in a light wind that pulls you into a narrative that feels like more of a Dogme 95 film than a sensationally violent noir.

Each part of the film starts off with a different year, the first being “The Year of Our Lord, 1974.” The Yorkshire Post’s greenhorn crime reporter, Eddie Dunford, begins researching a string of local kidnappings that all involve young girls. He’s reckless and fresh, and nothing seems able to deter him. The first installment was shot on 16mm film, and it’s very effective in echoing the grimy world that Eddie delves himself into. He discovers that the most recent disappearance is merely the latest in an ongoing spree by a serial kidnapper. He decides to go back and begin interviewing the families of girls who have never been recovered, and in doing so, uncovers a clandestine and corrupt ring of local Yorkshire police officers on the take.

There’s also kingpin—as there often is in film noir—John Dawson, who is a local man-turned real estate tycoon. He offers a story to Eddie, an exclusive about a lawyer who is standing in the way of Dawson’s latest venture, if he walks away from his investigation. Eddie declines and experiences the full extent of the man’s wrath. His friend and colleague, Barry Gannon, is found dead nearby, after his safety was threatened in a rambling by Dawson’s mentally incapacitated wife. Eddie is pushed to the breaking point with shocking revelations, and the only thing on his mind is revenge.

“The Year of Our Lord, 1980″ starts off in Leeds where the Ripper, a new perp who has a penchant for ladies of the night, has had an ongoing reign for six years. The chief investigating officer, Bill “The Badger” Molloy, is being reassigned off the case. Enter Peter Hunter, a young, hotshot Assistant Chief Constable, who will be heading up a secret task force to apprehend the Ripper, as well as root out police ineptitude and corruption. He is visited by Martin Laws, who takes him to meet a young informant. BJ the informant was friends with the late Claire Strachan, one of the Ripper’s victims. BJ suggests that Hunter go back and revisits Claire’s case, as things are not what they seem.

As he does so, he gets mixed up into the corruption of the Yorkshire police force, who are as bad as they were in the first film. It turns out that they may have had something to do with Claire’s death. Hunter is warned to tread lightly, but chooses to ignore it. Word comes from the brass that Hunter must be reassigned due to reasons of “professional misconduct.” He returns to Leeds after the Christmas holiday to find the Ripper under arrest, and willing to confess to every murder except that of Claire Strachan. With this new information, Hunter confronts BJ and finally has what he needs to make things right. While the first episode is textbook noir, this is has more of a murder mystery air to it.

Peter Hunter, played by Paddy Considine, in Red Riding

The final chapter in the trilogy is “The Year of Our Lord, 1983,” which starts off with Detective Chief Superintendent Maurice “The Owl” Jobson holding a press conference about the disappearance of ten-year old Hazel Atkins. The comparison is made to the last string of kidnappings, which Jobson worked with his boss, Bill “The Badger” Molloy. The story turns to incorporate the lowly lawyer, John Piggott, whose more-successful contemporaries describe as a “right fat bastard.” His late mother’s neighbor begs him to visit her son Michael, who was imprisoned eight years earlier for the murder of Claire Strachan. Piggott obliges, though he finds out that Michael pleaded guilty and, fearing copious amounts of paperwork, passes on the case.

BJ, the informant we come to be acquainted with in “1980,” gets paroled from prison, for a crime we are not privy to. He travels back to his hometown—and into the main plot line once again—and the intricacies of the story that were perhaps blurry in the nine years it took for the story to unravel, start to come together and make for a dramatic finale.

When I shuffled out of the IFC Center, red-eyed and exhausted, it was unlike any other film experience I could have possibly imagined. The three parts are all part of a finely tuned machine that create a sanctimonious harmony when played together, yet, are able to stand on their own independently as strong pillars of rhetoric.

To put it very simply, “Red Riding” is a lot like an extended episode of Law and Order Special Victims Unit that would be directed by Christopher Nolan. It twists and turns and is very hard to follow at times, and I’m sure each of my fellow viewers experienced the same fatigue as we travelled further down the rabbit hole together. If you can spare an entire day in the next week, while the film is still playing at IFC, I recommend you see it. Spending an entire day wrapped in a gritty and gruesome story was truly an experience…and not as depressing as you would think.