It Ain’t Easy (1972)

          Of minor interest because it contains the first real onscreen performance by Lance Henriksen, who subsequently became a cult-favorite actor with a sprawling body of genre-oriented film/TV work, It Ain’t Easy also ticks other niche-interest boxes. The picture features extensive scenes of snowmobiles zooming across American and Canadian wilderness, and the leading character is a Vietnam vet battling PTSD. Alas, It Ain’t Easy—sometimes marketed as The Winnipeg Run—is less than the sum of its parts. Beyond the usual shortcomings of a tiny budget, the picture has such an erratic tone that it’s hard for viewers to track, much less empathize with, the protagonist’s plight. During an earnest monologue, for instance, Henriksen wears a face mask made of duct tape, so he looks less like a veteran navigating emotional problems and more like a serial killer preparing for a rampage. Sure, the mask gets a logical explanation—the character is practicing how to protect himself from frostbite during extended exposure to subzero temperatures—but didn’t anyone on the crew suggest that Henriksen remove the mask before his soulful speech? It Ain’t Easy is full of such confounding moments. The story is missing a slew of important beats, and the direction by Maurice Hurley (who later had a moderately successful career as a writer/producer) waffles between inept and perfunctory.

          Anyway, here’s the threadbare story. Randy (Henriksen) leaves a mental hospital and travels to his late father’s remote cabin, where Randy discovers the family business of selling animal pelts is no longer viable. Switching gears, he decides to enter a snowmobile race with a big cash prize. On the way to the race’s starting point, Randy picks up a drifter named Jennifer (Penelope Allen). Despite being the audience for his duct-taped monologue, Jennifer doesn’t savvy that Randy has problems until he refuses to accept that that he missed the start of the race by an entire day. Soon local authorities learn from the military that Randy is off his meds, so a search ensues to find Randy before something tragic happens. Fleshed out, this idea could have been poignant or terrifying (if not both), but thanks to clueless execution, It Ain’t Easy doesn’t go much of anywhere and, worse, takes its time getting there. Accordingly, the only folks likely to trudge through all 90-ish minutes It Ain’t Easy are Henriksen superfans, even though his inexperience converges with sketchy material to yield a performance that’s amateurish at best, borderline embarrassing at worst.

It Ain’t Easy: FUNKY