'Spinal Tap II: The End Continues': The Lukewarm Water Of Rockumentaries

It’s not exactly an original opinion, but when it comes to cinema, I truly do strongly dislike remakes, reboots, and legacy sequels. Yes, of course, just like with anything there are exceptions to the rule, and good quality examples of all those exist, but in general I can’t help but associate them with creative bankruptcy, cynical opportunism, and the kind of nostalgia that late stage empires are always infused with. I know people say that nothing about them detracts from the originals, that you can always choose not to watch them. Sure, I can elect not to look at loads of things. That doesn’t mean that they stop existing, or stop being bad or saying something about the industry.

Spinal Tap 2: The End Continues arrives forty-one (!) years after the original film, and it once again follows director Marty Di Bergi (Rob Reiner), as he and his camera crew are allowed access all areas to document the legendary heavy metal band, this time during a special one-off reunion show in New Orleans that brings its (surviving—RIP Viv Savage, Mick Shrimpton, and all the various ‘Stumpies’ that have crossed our path) members out of various forms of retirement. The whole gang gets back together here, for one last (?) skewering of the music industry and rock star idiosyncrasy.

I knew fairly early on in Tap 2’s running time that it would be a difficult film to review. In fact it was largely a case of near-clairvoyant suspicions being confirmed. I was certain that I’d have trouble with it, partly due to the undiluted love I have for its predecessor, and also because I had a feeling that the film would most likely land somewhere in no man’s land when it came to quality. It wouldn’t be great, and it wouldn’t be terrible. I was willing to bet that it wouldn’t be a glowing neon sign signaling the decline of an industry, but it wouldn’t be making a supremely strong case for its own existence either. Reader, I was correct, and if you are too short on time today to read more than three paragraphs, then you can alight here because that mostly sums it up.

For those still with us, know this: Spinal Tap 2 has some truly great laughs scattered throughout its one-hour-and-twenty-minutes runtime, and it simmers gently throughout at a pleasant, chuckle-worthy—or at the very least smile-worthy—ambiance elsewhere. Like Derek Smalls himself, some might say it mostly operates at the gentle temperature of lukewarm water. It’s unfortunate that the very beginning of the film opens on as misjudged a gag as it does, as—contrary to the sacred comedy rule that you should start strong—it puts the viewer on the back foot when it comes to getting on board to really roll with the laughs that do arrive later. The intro sequence paraphrases the original’s Marty Di Bergi direct-to-camera address, except whereas in 1984 Reiner performed a masterclass in hilariously subtle awkwardness that I will never forget seeing for the first time, here he leans (literally, too, as it happens) far too heavily on a moment that, for me, personally, fell completely flat. It might seem that I’m being too harsh once you see it, but that first big laugh in any comedy is crucial, and here it just doesn’t do the trick.

It’s the burden of legacy sequels that they have to live with, well, the legacy, of their predecessors, and Tap 2 has some very large shoes to fill indeed. To its credit, in its best moments it manages to channel the genius that animated the original, particularly in the supremely funny chemistry and layered dialogue that the central cast bring to their roles. Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer, and Rob Reiner all slip into these characters as if they’ve never left them, and the symphony of stupidity they perform seemingly effortlessly is a treat to behold, and one of the great comedy dynamics in cinema. Along with a truly inspired addition to the Tap mythology of deceased drummers, and the simple joy of watching real musicians play music credibly onscreen, that dynamic is the film’s strongest element.

Mostly, Spinal Tap 2 plays like an extended sketch or TV special reunion. There is barely any structure here, and only vague overtures to an emotional arc or conflict journey—not that a film like this needs much of that, mind you, but it’s striking how developed in these areas it makes the original film seem in comparison. Similarly, the best jokes in this film reference ones from the first, serving as a reminder for how strong those gags remain, four decades later. All in all, your mileage may vary with Spinal Tap 2, a comfortable warm blanket of a film that probably didn’t need to exist but that I’ll probably always leave on if it happens to come on the telly.