Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Spinal Tap II: The End Continues’ on VOD, a Not-Quite-Underwhelming Sequel to an All-Time Classic

One assumes Spinal Tap II: The End Continues (now on VOD platforms like Amazon Prime Video) was titled such that the “II” could be interpreted as “11.” Because, you know, references. And the movie is a sequel to a significant cinematic reference point, 1984’s This is Spinal Tap, objectively the first-ever mockumentary, and subjectively, one of the funniest films ever made. The core principals return for another stab at spoofing the music biz, with Rob Reiner directing Michael McKean, Christopher Guest and Harry Shearer, again playing the high-volume, low-IQ rockers, who this time around are compelled by contractual obligation to stage a big reunion concert. Really chokes you up, you know? And the sequel leaves us to ponder a few questions: How do you follow up an all-time comedy classic? Will the new drummer survive? And is the movie going to be hilarious or just a shit sandwich?

SPINAL TAP II: THE END CONTINUES: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Fifteen years ago, Spinal Tap lead singer/guitarist David St. Hubbins (McKean) and lead guitarist Nigel Tufnel (Guest) stopped talking. And that’s all she wrote. The band was done. David took gigs writing telephone on-hold music and scores for true crime podcasts. Nigel operates a cheese-and-guitar shop in Berwick-upon-Tweed, where he met his wife. Bassist Derek Smalls (Shearer) opened a glue museum. And all 11 (yes, 11) drummers are dead, all under bizarre circumstances. So it goes. Death also came for their old manager Ian Faith, leaving all of Spinal Tap’s contractual whatnot in the possession of his daughter, Hope Faith (Kerry Godliman), who probably smelled the money but probably didn’t smell the pending hassle when she capitalized on a viral cover of Tap classic ‘Big Bottom’ by Garth Brooks and forced the band members to deal with their differences and reunite for a one-off gig at New Orleans’ Lakefront Arena. 

So what are we smelling here? Wig glue, maybe some Bengay for these old ferts’ aching bones and, obviously, THE GLOVE. After an awkward initial meeting, our core trio settles into a French Quarter B&B and sets up in a rehearsal space as documentarian Marty DiBergi (Reiner) rolls film. They meet Hope’s partner, Simon Howler (Chris Addison), who’s physically incapable of processing, hearing or synthesizing music, so of course he’s a concert promoter, and of course he suggests the best way to stage a memorable show is to have one, maybe two, bandmembers die on stage. With two weeks to go before the big shoe, the Tap auditions drummers: A Blue Man, an old granny, a weirdo who uses his body as a percussion instrument, etc. They soon settle on Didi Crockett (Valerie Franco), a young sparkplug with spiky bleach-blonde hair who gives the band a serious jolt of energy and makes everyone else look like f—ing antiques. 

In fact, Didi may almost be younger than the beef between David and Nigel. The guys rehearse and bicker and jam and bicker and bicker and bicker. Something happened to ice over a relationship dating back to whatever they call kindergarten in England (OK, I looked it up: it’s called “reception.” Weird!), and it hangs over the proceedings like an ancient fart – an ancient fart not unsimilar to the massive poot that blasts from a “Big Bottom” stage prop during rehearsal. As the band almost but not really tries to work through its interpersonal shit, they host a couple of music-biz hacks in Elton John and Paul McCartney, and DiBergi catches up with old bit players from the first movie (cue Fran Drescher and Paul Shaffer cameos) and gets a tour of Nigel’s stupidly complicated guitar-effects pedal board. Old jokes are reiterated, new jokes are iterated and warm feelings course through our various appendages. Will Spinal Tap’s massive reunion be a triumph? God, I hope not. It wouldn’t be very funny if it was.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Comedy legacy sequels you should avoid: Happy Gilmore 2, Zoolander 2 and Anchorman 2. 

Performance Worth Watching: Honestly, Shearer, Guest and McKean inspire more warm hugs than big laughs (not necessarily a bad thing). That leaves Addison free to steal scenes with a few uproarious zingers such as…

Memorable Dialogue: “It takes quite a lot of self-actualization not to develop at all, either musically or personally, in an entire lifetime. I sort of wanted to see that up close – call it a sort of anthropological interest.” – Howler on why he wanted to work with Spinal Tap

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: Disclosure: This is Spinal Tap is one of my all-time favorite films. I therefore deemed it wise to shrink my expectations for a sequel down to the size of the infamous Stonehenge prop – and it worked. It did not get trampled by a little person. It’s all but impossible to replicate the lightning in a bottle Reiner and co. captured 40 years ago – the spontaneity of the performances, the cutting satire of the music business (and, secondarily, the ridiculous bombast of heavy metal) and the extraordinary puerility of the songs, with their mixed metaphors and juvenile sexism, performed in wonderfully turgid fashion. Like a puppet show, it’s an act you never want to follow.

But for some reason – probably nostalgia, to be honest – these guys slapped on their ugly, ugly hairpieces and revisited their goofy-ass personae in pursuit of a bit of the ol’ magic. The result is just the right side of underwhelming. They forgo any temptation to poke fun at “final” tours that are never truly final, or any of the eminently spoofable elements of the streaming-era music business, instead opting for something resembling reminiscence. The funniest stuff comes from the periphery – Howler’s cynicism, Didi’s exuberance, the dismissal of McCartney as little more than an interloper – while Shearer, McKean and Guest mark the minuscule progression of their characters from horny spandex rock clowns to clueless geezers.

The laughs are a touch more sporadic than you’d like them to be, but hanging out with these lovable, incorrigible dimwits is baseline amusing. The dramatic tension between Nigel and David is the only thing holding the film together, and, in the reality of the narrative, the only thing keeping the band Spinal Tap interesting. The heart of the comedy has always been how the forever intellectually addled Tap is musically chameleonic purely from the pursuit of whatever trend will make them rich and famous, and therefore underscoring Spinal Tap II isn’t some hokey notion about their deep-seeded love of music. I’ll therefore take the apologist tack and insist that the thematic flimsiness of the film reflects the marked lack of focus and intelligence of its protagonists, an interpretation that makes it deeply funny more in my mind than in execution. If This is Spinal Tap was an exuberant puppy jumping on your lap and licking your face, the sequel is an old graying dog who flumps at your feet with a sigh – and it simply feels good to know that the ol’ pooch is still breathing.

Our Call: Again, gird your expectations, and you won’t pull the plug on Spinal Tap II. STREAM IT. 

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.