Their hands were hurt

The pain in my hands (from arthritis) has been so sharp at times lately, it has reminded me of the terrible torture portrayed in the excellent Red Riding Trilogy of 2009 movies, based on David Peace's quartet of novels, "set against a backdrop of serial murders, including the Yorkshire Ripper case." The corrupt police like to get their suspects (or the persons they want to frame) to confess by bullying them into putting their hands palm-down on the table ("Flat!"), then jabbing a hand with a handcuff wrapped around a fist and then (if necessary) holding a lighted cigarette to the injured hand.
    Those scenes are horrific, but if you can stand them (both at the time and later, by not dreaming about them or being unable to suppress them), the films are about as good as it gets for gritty, hard-boiled police thriller. I rated the first two films, Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 (directed by Julian Jarrold) and Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1980 (directed by James Marsh), only VG (very good), but I rated the third one, Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1983 (directed, Anand Tucker), E (excellent), for tying everything together and revealing the unsuspected serial killer in surprising, artful, satisfying fashion.
    I had to confer the same rating on the whole. Watch them if you can stand them, just as you still use your hurting hands in the morning to open that jar of jam for breakfast.