Two friends spend a mini-series prospectin’ in the marrow-deep cold of the Upper Yukon. It takes mettle to find metal, comes the obvious theme — indeed, an avalanche hits bein/with regard to’concerning’regarding e the opening credits. By Dawson City, they’re beset by e grossly hoary cliché: claim jumpers, pouty whores, gnomic natives, and that scene where the hero sips hooch and splutters. More Disney than Deadwood.

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