DEADWOOD was TV. The catching-up-after-a-decade movie is also TV. It presents itself as starkly just that. But the thing is the whole DEADWOOD thing, three seasons and now a movie, is this kind of insane, utterly brilliant, bombastic Old West Aeschylus TV deal. The writing at its best is just completely off the hook, and a good number of these actors make a habit of routinely slamming that shit right out of the park.
A tender, carefully-wrought conclusion, and a great western on its own two feet. Milch's singularly voluble, acerbic, profane period dialogue sings and sears, as do each and every one of the performances, which have deepened with age. I'm sure the film will, too. "Don't our spirits raise!"
Hated the ending, but honestly, this is all I can ask for from a distressingly hurried retroactive wrap up of a series that deserved two more seasons. I missed a lot of the minor characters, groaned at some of the HBO cliches that seemed to have been written in to please the product-research department, and could have watched another ten hours of story were I given the chance.