I am bereft. I was expecting a lot of western shoot-outs, bandido adventures and debauchery, and more magical elements, but instead was served some heart achingly tragic morality tale about the nature of humans and their ability to become something new, old, good, or evil. The magical realism is subtle in this, even though it seems to start out strong in the prologue, but it boils down to the physical embodiment of a generational curse and its dissolution. 

Godspeed, Peter Ainsley. I wish we had known you longer.

A TW I think might be very important for some people:

There is quite a bit of child death and the mourning over killed children in this one. It hits hard though and is treated like the deplorable act that it is.