You walk into the theater with some trepidation. Can Spinal Tap II: The End Continues possibly match the flat-out hilarity of the largely improvised 1984 rock and roll satire This Is Spinal Tap? The filmmakers seem to know what they’re up against—early on, they reprise greatest hits like “Big Bottom” (“My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo, I love to sink her with my pink torpedo.”).

But once those nostalgic riffs are out of the way, the movie settles into a story of its own that’s surprisingly pleasurable, complete with excellent cameos from the likes of Questlove and Fran Drescher.
The conceit: the lovable heavy metal band may or may not be reuniting for one last show. (Stormy Daniels conveniently canceled A Night with Stormy in New Orleans, leaving a giant arena up for grabs.) Rob Reiner returns both behind and in front of the camera, again playing the genial mockumentarian Marty DiBergi.

The “quest” begins as the band’s three principals are rounded up: guitarist Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest), yanked out of his cheese (and guitar) shop and away from his new love, Moira (Nina Conti); lead singer David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean), still in the music business, playing in a mariachi band and bragging about his “Holdie” award for best phone on-hold music; and bassist Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer), now proprietor of a London Glue Museum.

Yes, a Glue Museum.

Only a drummer is missing, and no one wants the cursed gig—past Spinal Tap percussionists have met untimely deaths – one by gardening accident, another by choking on someone else’s vomit. Enter Didi Crockett (Valerie Franco), whose powerhouse playing style and friendly personality win over the band. When Derek inevitably hits on her, she lets him know she’s spoken for, introducing him to her gorgeous girlfriend.

Rehearsals follow, thick with jealousies, creative squabbles, and suspicions of infidelity. Relief from the “band drama” arrives in the form of cameos: Paul McCartney wanders in to ask an engineer, “Are they always like this?” and even offers to play with the band—an idea David greets with notable lack of enthusiasm. However, the film truly soars when Elton John makes an appearance. He, too, drops by the rehearsal room, offering to sit in on a song or two.

As delightful as Guest, McKean, and Shearer are in writing and performing their own material, Elton’s musical talents light up the screen. Watching him in close-up—those trademark glasses, that inimitable voice, the showbiz sparkle intact—is pure joy.

When he finally takes the stage at the big concert, the film morphs from nostalgia into an enjoyable concert film, no satire required.

The laughs never stop, and while familiarity with the 1984 classic enhances the fun, it’s hardly required. Without giving away spoilers, the inevitable stage disaster cranks the comedy up to eleven.
If there’s one gripe, it’s that Fran Drescher’s cameo as former publicist Bobbi Fleckman is far too brief. Somebody, please, give her a full-blown vehicle—she’s overdue to win the hearts of a new generation.