Canadian filmmaker Paul Lynch’s 1973 first feature The Hard Part Begins looks like how whiskey neat and stale beer smells. That’s a compliment given the chosen profession of the main character, country singer Jim King. Now available on Blu-Ray from Canadian International Pictures, The Hard Part Begins is a character drama from a bygone era depicting a way of life that was in freefall then, but still tenuously hangs on today, that of the travelling singer-songwriter who toils endlessly, but never makes their way beyond a certain level of regional acclaim and fame. They’ve embedded themself in a comfortably numb rut, and by the time they realize it’s time to climb out, they’re in too deep to turn back.
After cutting his teeth on documentary shorts – including one for the CBC that sent him to the venerable Grand Ole Opry in Nashville – and before he would be more widely known for genre efforts like Prom Night and Humungous or his lengthy career in television, Lynch worked with screenwriter John Hunter (The Grey Fox) to look at the people who provide soundtracks for other people’s good times. Jim King (character actor Donnelly Rhodes, in a role originally pegged for Leslie Nielsen) and his latest band King and Country are at a crossroads. With rock and roll music taking over the bars and venues they normally play at and country music declining in popularity, album sales are down and crowds are growing scarcer. But on the plus side, the group’s female co-lead singer, Jenny Frame (Nancy Belle Fuller), is helping draw the group some attention from major record labels. Jim can sniff success once again around the corner, but this latest touring loop is taking him through his old stomping grounds of West Eden, where he has a lot of unfinished business and emotional baggage waiting to be unpacked.
Canadian and American cinema of the 60s and early 70s were filled with tales of ramblin’ men and women trying to live life on their own terms and struggling to the shifting whims of the modern world. They were told they would be something special and that work awaited them around every corner, but genuine opportunity was hard to find. Jim King conveys a wholly blue collar image to connect with his fans, but his desire to take his stalled career to another level is about as white collar as one can get.
The question of artistic authenticity seeps into Hunter’s story at every turn, and it’s easy to see why so many people get annoyed by Jim’s obstinate ways. It’s always his way or the highway, and the highway might just be easier. Although he has formed a romantic relationship with Jenny, they couldn’t be further apart in terms of what they bring to the table. Jenny has natural charisma, a great voice, and a realness. Jim has a die hard work ethic and what one recored executive will cuttingly tell him are “pretty good” songs. In his line of work, “pretty good” is worse than being told your songs are shitty. No one feels anything for “pretty good.” It’s background noise at best.

The Hard Part Begins – so named after one of the film’s standout songs – is a film about karma coming to collect on someone who envisioned much brighter lights in their life. Although Jim’s new band is doing alright, he clearly misses the partnership he had with best friend and former collaborator, Hank Reilly (Neil Vipond), who’s convalescing at a hospital in the late stages of a terminal illness. His love and affection for Jenny are threatened by jealousy and the wandering eye of the travelling musician. An old flame (Susan O’Sullivan) has come around claiming Jim is the father of her baby, and her pissed off brother (Gary Flanagan) demands satisfaction and financial compensation. On top of all that, Jim’s ex-wife (Linda Sorensen) informs him that their teenage son (David Daniels) is suicidal. One gets the sense Jim expected to be so famous by now that none of these things would phase him upon his return.
To the credit of Hunter’s script and Rhodes’ career best leading performance, Jim King comes across as a hard worker with no shred of self-awareness and a boatload of coping mechanisms that are all failing him. Jim demands loyalty, but outside of good buddy and bandmate Duane (a scene stealing Paul Bradley), he doesn’t find much in return. Everything he does pushes those close to him further away, including his lovers, friends, and even the band’s rock and roll minded drummer, who could find better work elsewhere. Jim comes across as a man who insists that his formula for success works, but it hasn’t be scientifically proven yet. Even during the film’s bleakly funny final scene, Jim still hasn’t learned his lesson, and the cycle looks like it will never be broken.
If Jim were a better person to those around him or he learned anything along this part of his journey, The Hard Part Begins could be classified as a tragedy. Instead, Lynch has made The Hard Part Begins into something pointedly melancholic and soulful. There’s a great deal of humanity in Lynch’s film, even if not a lot is being shown by his protagonist and his empathy only comes in fleeting spurts that arrive when he knows he’s licked. Lynch doesn’t shy away from the ugliness that goes into cultivating an on stage persona that’s meant to personally engage with an audience. He expects the world to come to him, not fully comprehending that success is a two way street. It’s a psychologically fascinating depiction of fame seeking, and it’s a mentality that’s unfolding somewhere else in the world today, not just in the 1973 world of Jim King.
The look of the 1970s honky-tonk bar band scene has been so lovingly restored by Canadian International Pictures from the original 16mm reversal that the film appears almost tactile to the human eye. Rough wood, broken down vehicles, and clothes that have been worn for a few years too many pop in loving detail. It becomes clear watching The Hard Part Begins in this restored form that Lynch got his start in documentaries, with his use of movement and point of view never feeling fussy or staged. It’s a film that exists in the element of its characters, like all great works of cinema. Although it will remind viewers of a certain vintage of a time when AM radio wasn’t all talk, The Hard Part Begins depicts a timeless sort of hubris that’s treated delicately and thoughtfully.
The Hard Part Begins is now available on Blu-Ray from Canadian International Pictures and can be purchased via the Vinegar Syndrome online shop or one of their brick and mortar stores, including the one in Toronto. It makes a great selection for viewing on National Canadian Film Day on Wednesday, April 16, 2025.