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Cattle and ramble the wide-open countryside. Jagged boulders simmer underneath the sweltering Arizona sun. Burly cowpokes in skin-tight denim nail each other silly. Welcome to the world of To the Last Guy - a world of the raunchy and the rugged... more Yankee 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 nip ring? I guess the verisimilitude had to end somewhere, but I am not above draping my disbelief when there are more pressing matters at hand. Underneath its dusty-booted surface, TTLM is filled with more steamy fornicatin' than Fire Island's meat rack mingled with Southern Decadence, multiplied by Ft. Lauderdale. Brokeback it ain't, but the recipe here called for a dickjerker. And fap you shall, for this is an exquisitely-filmed, ambitious fuck-fest of unbelievable proportions. Let's embark with Part I: The Gathering Storm.