‘Spinal Tap 2: The End Continues’ review: mock and roll granddads gets their spoof on once more

This is Spinal Tap! – the hugely influential 1984 comedy following “one of England’s loudest bands” as they embark on an ill-fated US tour – is an almost impossible act to follow. It popularised the mockumentary format, inspired countless imitators (Ricky Gervais frequently acknowledges The Office’s debt to it), and lodged itself firmly in the public consciousness, adding the concept of turning the dial up to 11 to the pop-culture lexicon. A sequel could never live up to that legacy, and while The End Continues obviously won’t be talked about in such hallowed terms in four decades’ time, it thankfully doesn’t sully its own reputation, and it sure is pleasant to be back in the company of the band again.

Reprising the faux-doc format, director and co-writer Rob Reiner once again plays Marty DiBergi, the documentarian following the band. After a 15-year hiatus (which tracks with the real time that has passed since Tap toured in character and played Glastonbury in 2009), a reunion gig in New Orleans is scheduled for spurious contractual reasons. Marty goes about finding the members and following them in the lead-up to the show. They haven’t spoken in the years since, and relations are particularly frosty between lead singer David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest) for reasons not initially specified. Finding a drummer is also understandably difficult, given one of the first film’s most enduring in-jokes.

Like The Naked Gun, another recent revival of a classic ’80s spoof, there’s something inherently pleasurable about having silly laughs on the big screen again even if, like that reboot, The End Continues is more smile-inducingly mirthful than laugh-out-loud gutbusting. Nothing here rivals the best yuks in the original (the miniature Stonehenge, the corridor confusion), but it’s hard not to grin a lot of the time, and there are enough funny moments to make it feel like a worthwhile exercise. Sticking to the hits, it doesn’t try anything radical, but that was always going to be the safest approach with this kind of material. Alongside digs at podcasts and pleasingly ridiculous post-Tap careers for the guys (Nigel runs a cheese and guitar shop, a concept he expounds on in his distinctive mumble), there are riffs on familiar material, with outrageous stage props and OTT accessories.

It’s a comedy of comfort: the getting-the-band-back-together doc approach is the perfect excuse to shamelessly push the nostalgia buttons with archive clips, familiar songs and check-ins on recognisable bit-players. The band’s late manager Ian Faith has died, so in steps his daughter, Hope (Kerry Godliman, known for Gervais shows Derek and After Life), to fulfil the contractual obligation she’s inherited. Another new face is Simon Howler (The Thick of It’s Chris Addison), a music-averse PR guy who nabs a few choice lines. There are a couple of notable cameos (if you’ve seen the trailer, no big surprises await) who get in on the antics to amusing effect, but the MVPs are the central trio – who once again improv the dialogue with Reiner. Just hearing their accents is reassuringly funny, and there’s still mileage in their ‘rock dinosaurs out of time’ schtick, exacerbated further 40 years on. Their crumpled faces and ill-advised mullets add to their pitiable charm, and you’ll find something approaching poignancy in the relationship between David and Nigel. If the dial’s not exactly all the way up to 11, the band at least don’t spontaneously combust in this amiable reunion show that plays like a well-earned victory lap.