The long-awaited sequel to the documentary (or ‘rockumentary’) Spinal Tap, which told the story of a failing British rock band’s disastrous American tour, opened this month to decidedly mixed reviews. Robbie Collin in the Daily Telegraph advised us to dial down our expectations to -11 (ho ho) for The End Continues, which sees the band reform for a final, contractually obliged concert in Las Vegas.
Collin mused that for many aficionados the first half at least would put them in mind of a description of one of Tap’s early albums, Shark Sandwich, which ran to just two words: ‘shit sandwich’. Mark Kermode seemed pained at the comparison with the original and deemed the new film a footnote of interest to die-hard fans only. Elsewhere, among a few positive notices, I’ve seen ‘patchy’, ‘disappointing’ and ‘what a let-down’ in a batch of rather off-putting verdicts.
To all of which I say: nonsense. Spinal Tap 2 is great fun, and one of the most enjoyable films I’ve seen in years. Of course it rarely reaches the comedic heights of the sublime first film – but how could it? That was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle where a group of talented individuals with a genius idea got together at exactly the right time – when poodle-haired heavy-metal pomposity and the inanity of the stadium rock business were crying out to be lampooned – and did so brilliantly. But Tap 2 stands firmly on its own as more than just a curiosity of late-career cash-in. Nor is it simply a warm bath of nostalgia. Think of it more as an elegiac coda which tinkles along delightfully before building to a comic crescendo of raw power and unexpected poignancy.
The film begins by locating the principals: the three members of Spinal Tap who have semi-retired, in the case of Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest, lead guitar), at a cheese-and-guitar shop; David St Hubbins (Michael McKean, singer) as a composer of music for true-crime podcasts and on-hold telephone jingles; and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer, bassist) as the proprietor of the Glue Museum. They have lost touch and there seems to be a problem in the central Jagger/Richards relationship between Nigel and David. The film outlines the rather frosty reunion, the fraught preparations for the concert – including their quest for a new drummer (their 14th, the previous 13 having died in a variety of bizarre ways) – and the gig itself. Along the way we meet a few guest stars from the world of rock and there are some updates on minor characters from the first film, such as Jeanine (June Chadwick), David’s ultra-annoying girlfriend, who is now a nun.
True – while the first film barely missed a beat, the sequel has plenty, including some lame physical gags that land like a flubbed fill. And yet, oddly, it seems appropriate in a film about a last gasp (almost literally – Tap’s new manager wonders if one or two of the band wouldn’t mind dying during the final concert to help merchandise sales) from comic rock legends. The wraith-like Spinal Tap are clearly knackered (they look older than the Stones), so if some of the gags are too, that only adds to the charm.
Then there is the music, which is terrific. As in the first film – which some rock fans (I know a few) huffily took as an insult to their beloved genre – The End Continues is really a celebration of hard rock and a testament to the high level of musicianship required. It is often overlooked that Spinal Tap are a real band: they have played Glastonbury and the Royal Albert Hall, released several albums and had hits. All the material is original and played by the band themselves. And there is much more of it this time, including a lengthy jamming session – gatecrashed by Paul McCartney and Elton John no less, with whom Tap appear to hold their own.
Tap 2 stands firmly on its own as more than just a curiosity of late-career cash-in
These celebrity cameos have divided audiences, with some lamenting the lack of laughs, but I prefer the fact that McCartney and John play it largely straight. There is nothing worse than celebrities hamming it up as comedic versions of themselves (Ricky Gervais’s Extras didn’t work for me on that score). The humour, which is gentle, just seems to happen: I loved Derek Smalls’s comment on Elton John’s performance, ‘Too much piano’. John clearly loves Tap’s music and his impassioned performance of the band’s ‘Stonehenge’ wasn’t exactly funny but somehow thrilling nonetheless, reminding us that great comic songs shouldn’t only be greatly comic, but great songs.
What is also welcome is what isn’t there: the total absence of political correctness or any particular message. I’ve almost given up on modern cinema. Sooner or later the wagging finger appears: it usually comes in the form of diversity casting, clumsy minority-empowerment plots or a too-neat moral lesson. But there’s none of that here. The closest we get is when Derek Smalls rather ickily propositions the band’s new drummer, Dee Dee Crockett (a superb Valeria Franco), only to discover she is a lesbian. But the gag here is about Smalls’s arrested development and his supreme humiliation rather than his unfashionable chauvinism.
Not that the film lacks depth. Like the first Tap, which explored how the introduction of a female of the species can collapse the architecture of a male group dynamic, the second dwells on the theme of lifelong male friendship, centring on the apparent betrayal of singer David St Hubbins by his partner Nigel. This all-too-real dilemma hovers in the background before taking centre stage at the end. The jamming session is brilliantly exploited to reveal how out of tune David and Nigel have become, with McCartney subtly employed as a proxy for David’s simmering resentment. This is clever stuff, and touching in places.
But not too many places. This is first and foremost a comedy. And it all ends brilliantly with a hilarious bull’s-eye of a pay-off in the concert sequence, which I didn’t see coming and wouldn’t dream of revealing here.
All in all then, don’t listen to the critics. Tap 2 delivers in its own way – a bit erratically, it must be admitted – but ultimately satisfyingly. The Leicester Square audience I saw it with gave it a standing ovation. I’m tempted to give it five stars. But I guess there is a fan premium at work there – so let’s call it four.
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