Cattle and horses roam the wide-open countryside. Jagged boulders simmer beneath the sweltering Arizona sun. Burly cowpokes in skin-tight jeans fuck each other silly. Welcome to the world of To the Last Man - a world of the rough and the rugged... more American than apple pie... all bales of hay... and canyons... and hairy tarantulas... and windmills... and guns a-blazin'... and scruffy beards... and... wait. Is that a nipple ring? I guess the verisimilitude had to end somewhere, but I am not above suspending my disbelief when there are more pressing matters at hand. Beneath its dusty-booted surface, TTLM is packed with more hot fornicatin' than Fire Island's meat rack combined with Southern Decadence, multiplied by Ft. Lauderdale. Brokeback it ain't, but the recipe here called for a dickjerker. And jerk you shall, for this is an exquisitely-filmed, ambitious fuck-fest of epic proportions.
Let's commence with Part I: The Gathering Storm.