Nostalgia is one hell of a drug, but let’s face it: Even the best highs start to lose their novelty after a while. When it feels like reboot and reunion announcements are as much a fact of life as death and taxes, it’s easy to feel numb to it all. For (mostly) better or worse, that conundrum is something that Spinal Tap II: The End Continues understands all too well.
It’s been 41 years since This Is Spinal Tap introduced one of England’s self-proclaimed “loudest rock bands.” Fronted by Michael McKean and Christopher Guest, the film’s satirical rendition of self-serious metal rockers was so well-realized that, cult-classic status aside, you can forgive scores of viewers for mistaking Spinal Tap for the real deal.
Its mockumentary style can be felt in everything from The Office to The Lonely Island’s Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, but influence doesn’t automatically equal lega-sequel success. Why revive something that was already pretty perfect to begin with?
Spinal Tap II, in theaters Sept. 12, inevitably won’t have the same cultural impact as the original, but that’s not the goal here. Rather than trying to relive the glory days, this follow-up is content to sit back and enjoy the comedic alchemy of watching a gaggle of improv legends riff together, one last time.
Rob Reiner’s follow-up doesn’t waste time being precious about getting the band back together. Fifteen years after their last show, Spinal Tap are contractually obligated to reunite for a farewell concert, per orders from their late manager’s daughter, Hope Faith (Kerry Godliman).
Thanks to a viral video of Garth Brooks performing their song “Big Bottom” at a recent sound check, it just might make headlines (tangentially, Kate Bush’s renewed popularity post-Stranger Things is what initially inspired the Spinal Tap crew to finally reassemble). That’s all This Is Spinal Tap’s original “director,” Marty Di Bergi (also Reiner), needs to track down the bandmates from obscurity.
Lead singer David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean), at least, is still tangentially in the biz, singing in a local mariachi band and composing elevator hold music (“It won a Holdie,” he proclaims proudly). The others have left that behind—drummer Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest) and bassist Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) run a cheese shop and a glue museum, respectively. Many of the original’s supporting players appear in brief cameos, most memorably David’s ex-girlfriend Jeanine (June Chadwick), who has become a nun after mistaking The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” for the voice of God.
Before long, the group has locked down a stadium venue in New Orleans, and the stage is set for their final comeback. Unlike other long-awaited comedy sequels—looking at you, Happy Gilmore 2 —Spinal Tap II doesn’t waste its time trying to appeal to the kids of today. Its references and real-life superstar cameos are firmly in its older cast’s purview, and judging from the delighted guffaws of my Boomer and Gen X-filled screening, their target audience has indeed been reached.
Like the first film, whatever semblance of a plot Spinal Tap II has stems from the dysfunctional yet unbreakable bond between childhood friends David and Nigel, who became estranged over a perceived betrayal since their last gig. Whereas their younger selves had zero qualms about spending their days clashing over rock star egos and plummeting chart placements, their 70-something selves don’t have the same luxury of time.
Although The Last Waltz was an inspiration for This Is Spinal Tap, Martin Scorsese’s seminal “end-of-an-era” concert film feels even more relevant here. The cadence of Spinal Tap II’s comedy skews more gentle banter than manic, laugh-a-minute bits.
As reliably funny as these comedy legends are when placed back in the same room, there’s a striking poignancy to watching them snap the latex back on in the face of their own mortality. As the band’s noxious new manager Simon Howler (Chris Addison)—who ironically claims to suffer from medical tone-deafness—bluntly tells them, the real way to make a reunion concert pop is having one of the members die on-stage (a coma is also an acceptable middle ground).
Knowing end-of-life gags are everywhere, from a running joke about the “death curse” that has befallen 11 Spinal Tap drummers to fitness trainer Bob Kitness’ (John Michael Higgins) quip that the “candles are starting to cost more than the cake.”
These guys know they’re not going to be around forever, which makes unexpectedly tender moments like David and Nigel reconciling and Derek harboring an unrequited crush hit that much harder.
The film’s final act swaps some of Spinal Tap’s classic handheld POV for glossy concert film panoramas, rest assured—the sheer number of fart jokes and Stonehenge-related stage mishaps keep it from turning into the sort of treacly hagiography that the original mocked. Eddie Spaghetti once said that rock and roll keeps you in a constant state of juvenile delinquency, but as Spinal Tap II argues, geriatric mayhem can be pretty winning, too.
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