With Spinal Tap, the joke never gets old, even if the hilarious-as-ever heavy metal trio is now bordering on geriatric. Well into their 70s, hall-of-fame improv talents Michael McKean and Christopher Guest are the same age as real-life rockers Alice Cooper and Steven Tyler, while slightly older Harry Shearer has made it up to 70-11. It’s to the point that “the candles are starting to cost more than the cake,” as fitness guru Bob Kitness (John Michael Higgins) tells the boys, but that’s all to the benefit of a sequel that draws added relevance from post-stardom reality shows like “The Osbournes” and “Bands Reunited.”
If director Rob Reiner’s solid-gold 1984 mock doc “This Is Spinal Tap” modeled itself after Martin Scorsese’s “The Last Waltz,” then what should we consider its decades-later follow-up, “Spinal Tap II: The End Continues,” about the disbanded heavy metal group’s (contractually obliged) farewell concert? In some ways, the new movie’s even more “Last Waltz”-y than “The Last Waltz” was: The affectionate reunion of alter-kocker rockers plays like a greatest hits of past laughs, building to a thrilling live performance of songs fans know by heart, featuring guest appearances from several bona fide music gods.
Technically, “The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash” and “A Hard Day’s Night” got there first, but “This Is Spinal Tap” set the standard for mockumentaries to come. Unlike the original, there’s nothing revolutionary or especially groundbreaking here. But at least it doesn’t tarnish what came before, as too many lazy late sequels — from “Happy Gilmore 2” to “The Odd Couple II” — have done. In this case, it serves the film well that the stars have aged so much since their virile, bulging-spandex heyday. It’s only natural that David St. Hubbins (McKean), Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest) and Derek Smalls (Shearer) should have crow’s-feet and bingo wings, even as they’ve kept their rebel hairstyles intact.
Reiner returns as filmmaker Marty DiBergi, who tracks down key characters from the original, including June Chadwick’s Jeanine (who thought she’d heard God, when it was actually just the Police) and original groupie Jean Cromie Schmit (first seen in the 20-minute demo that got the film financed), plus PR flak Bobbi Flekman (Fran Drescher) and incompetent promotions guy Artie Fufkin (Paul Shaffer). Although these two appear very briefly, their duties pass to nepo-baby manager Hope Faith (Kerry Godliman) and insufferable Simon Howler (welcome new addition Chris Addison), who’s afflicted with “St. Cecilia’s Curse,” a sort of tone-deafness that makes him uniquely unsuited for the job.
When last we saw Nigel — in the closing joke of the 1984 film — he was speculating about what he might do if the band broke up: working as a salesman in a “haberdasher” or a “chapeau shop.” That wasn’t far from the mark: He sells cheese and guitars in a town called Berwick-Upon-Tweed. David still composes, proudly demonstrating a piece of award-winning hold music he wrote, while bass guitarist Derek went on to perform alone (his solo hit, “Hell Toupee,” is the film’s funniest “new” song). If the lawyers say they owe Faith one last show, who are they to argue? And so the trio meet up in New Orleans, where they hold auditions for a new drummer.
Now, if you know the original film, that idea is sure to make you laugh (the band is uniquely cursed in that every single one of their drummers died of outlandish causes). But you needn’t be a Taphead to enjoy “The End Continues.” The movie serves the nostalgia set by rehashing classic gags, the way any legacy band might riff on favorite tunes, even as it aims to bring younger viewers into the fold. Here, we get a fresh version of “Stonehenge” with appropriately scaled druid decor (for once), as well as some gratuitous flatulence to accompany the band’s fanny-fetish staple, “Big Bottom,” inspiring Nigel to deliver a philosophical monologue on the merits of the fart joke.
At 83 minutes, the sequel doesn’t overstay its welcome, focusing mainly on the tensions that cause famous bands to break up and the ridiculous pressures the music industry now puts on artists (delivered by Addison’s tone-deaf label rep). This isn’t the first time Spinal Tap has reunited — at least four songs from their 1992 album “Break Like the Wind” feature here — although it would’ve been nice to get a few more original tunes. Derek suggests one possibility with the career-encompassing new single “Rockin’ the Urn,” though it’s only heard in rough form.
“Spinal Tap II” seems designed to let audiences relive their four-decade love affair with a spoof band that so successfully channeled the spirit of heavy metal — with its inflated egos and faux-satanic imagery — that it ultimately earned a place alongside the likes of Black Sabbath and Judas Priest. The 1984 film came from a place of respect, not derision, allowing McKean, Guest and Shearer (each of whom could really play) to pay homage to a style of music that was all swagger and showmanship.
Looking back, there really wasn’t much difference between a bejeweled Elton John doing a piano handstand and ultra-dark Ozzy Osbourne biting the head off a bird onstage. To quote the original movie, “It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever.” In this new-original sequel, however, the Spinal Tap trio seem older and wiser, and that’s a shame, since their dim-witted antics (going in circles trying to find the stage or rationalizing an all-black album cover) became the stuff of legend. The band may be forever banned from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but in a way, this late-career concert proves a far better tribute.
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