You just couldn’t make it up.
A landmark of its genre, one could say that This is Spinal Tap, the 1984 rockumentary from director Marty DiBergi chronicling the titular heavy metal band’s infamous Smell the Glove tour, subsequent break-up, and eventual reunion, was a watershed for both the music and movie industries. It’s impact is quite clear, the presentational style of its interviews and filmmaking a common one to be found all over TV and film today, and it remains a favourite movie among many popular musicians -both those that new the band personally and who have come up since -who can relate to its raw portrait of band dysfunction and battling egos. In spite of this, the cult impact has not translated to substantial success for the band, whose best remembered songs remain those from about forty years ago and who until the events detailed by this film had not played together since 2010 -in large part owing to an ambiguous rift between frontman David St. Hubbins and lead guitarist Nigel Tufnel, one of the mysteries this follow-up decades later aims to get to the bottom of. And while it is eventually illuminated, Spinal Tap II: The End Continues does a lot of resting on its laurels to get to that point, as well as the inevitable last reunion concert for the band.
DiBergi, who never managed to replicate the success of that original film -spending several years as a teacher at the Ed Wood School of Cinematic Arts- returns as director. It is possible that his relationship to the band, like the late Michael Apted’s to the subjects of his Up series, was personal and trusting enough that he was the only director permitted to once again follow them around and chronicle this attempt at a late-career renaissance. Regardless, his affection for the band still shows through, if his directorial style is less spontaneous. Part of that is also his subjects though, being older and no longer the radicals they once were. Indeed, their career paths are a bit quaint. We touch in on Tufnel, who runs a little cheese and guitar shop (sometimes people trade him a guitar for cheese, sometimes vice versa) in the northern town of Berwick-upon-Tweed near the Scottish border. Down in London, bassist Derek Smalls curates a museum dedicated to glue while occasionally performing with the symphony. And St. Hubbins is based out of California, where he makes a living composing music for podcasts and hold lines (which he is proud to tell you he won a Holdie for). The circumstances of their coming together again is based out of a contract with their late former manager Ian Faith, inherited by his daughter Hope -now taking up this role for the band, requiring them to perform together one last time.
The three elder rockers play to the camera with relative finesse -one might not believe they've been out of the public eye for so long. Their musical proficiency appears to not have faded much either, though as songwriters it is a bit more of a mixed bag. In the studio we hear them play snippets of a few new songs, most apparently written by St. Hubbins -with Tufnel only half-interested in them at the best of times. But the lyrical mind behind hits like "Big Bottom" and "Stonehenge" -both of which they play here to satiate nostalgia, aren't so sharp with their new material. And it's a shame barely anything new makes its way into their concert performance at the end, which mostly just manages to be the grand experience they tried to make "Stonehenge" in This is Spinal Tap. Though it didn't work out then, I would argue the amusing novelty it was made into is more memorable than the real feat attained now.
We see some prickliness from new concert promoter Simon Howler, a man bizarrely with an inability to hear or recognize music and yet incredibly judgmental and authoritative on the subject. He is an occasionally entertaining personality to have in the mix there (his suggestion that one of the band members dying would be a potential boon to their publicity making for a good unintentional comment on the cynical industry), though his appearance of course is predicated on an obligatory check-in with his 1984 predecessor Bobbi Fleckman, who does not want to be there. The new show of course also involves new merchandise like the ill-conceived "Tap Water" and the hiring of a new drummer. Spinal Tap is obviously infamous for the curse that eventually befalls every drummer they've ever had, as this film makes a point to remind us. A couple fairly big names are considered: Metallica's Lars Ulrich, The Red Hot Chili Peppers' Chad Smith, and Questlove, before they settle on the young relative unknown Didi Crockett, whose peppy fangirl attitude feels a little inauthentic, but who (and this may be a controversial statement given the fandom around Stumpy Pepys) might be the best percussionist the band has ever had.
The reference to these other musicians touches on something not seen in the original movie. Where that film remained laser-focused on the band with no appearances from other popular artists of the day, here presumably Spinal Tap's reputation has drawn major celebrities into their fold. DiBergi likely included them to emphasize the band's prestige, though it does feel rather like it distracts focus from the members themselves. In particular is a long beat where Paul McCartney comes into the studio and makes some musical recommendations -which St. Hubbins doesn't take well. More consequentially, Elton John comes in and despite a rendition of "Flower People" that perfectly fits his style, is cast by the band to be their keyboardist for the concert's performance of "Stonehenge" instead. The presence of Elton John is something of a gimmick these days and whether that was on the mind of Spinal Tap when they employed him here, it certainly feels that way -for more than one reason it was a mistake for him to be part of that concert.
Tap can sometimes feel sidelined next to their own apparent influence, the band merely there to react to others' impressions of them. Smalls at one point is caught making an unsuccessful pass at Crockett, but otherwise fades into the background for much of the doc. The drama of the film is between Tufnel and St. Hubbins, though we are not given much a sense of what Tufnel's exact creative issues are, beyond the aesthetics of a giant flatulent posterior for the "Big Bottoms" number. He appears to contribute very little to the band's rehearsals, his issues with St. Hubbins ultimately proving puzzling given the rift is revealed to be largely of St. Hubbins' making. It is honestly a little tiresome to see their conflict play out and especially at this age to see that it is barely different than their feuding in 1984, just with a gestated sour bitterness in place of raging frustration and enmity.
There's not so full a picture of Spinal Tap in this film as in their last owing to its purpose being more consolidated. their circles are less populated with press and groupies -as with any aging rock act it can be a dismal thing. And yet it is nice to see this band again. That is a novelty that propels this film a good degree. Spinal Tap has been out of the spotlight for a while, but the band members still have an off-the-cuff charisma with the camera that is charming -DiBergi does too, perhaps he should be hired for another project. And even with the chaos that was that reunion show (the lawsuits still circulating), there's something special in seeing an important if underwritten band perform one last time. Spinal Tap II: The End Continues cannot hold a candle to the original classic, its portrait is less inspired and interesting, but it does have gems. The band's antics are even funny from time to time, imagine that. Maybe that's how they deserve to be remembered.
Dedicated to the memory of Didi Crockett.
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