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It's such a fine line between stupid and clever-Spinal Tap

In a summer when almost every comedy forgot there even was a line between stupid and clever, Hollywood is kind enough to bring back three lads named David, Nigel, and Derek. This is Spinal Tap, originally released in 1984, might be the cleverest comedy of the last twenty years.

The movie is a spoof of other rock band documentaries, as it follows the North American tour of a fictional classic-rock group named Spinal Tap. Having gained huge fame in the '60s and '70s, the band is now playing "to a more selective audience" as they try to regain their former glory. The core of the group is David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) on vocals and rhythm guitar, Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest) on lead guitar, and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) on bass. Also in the band are Viv Savage (who slowly but wonderfully disintegrates as the movie goes on) on keyboards and a revolving door of drummers. Along for the ride and to "capture it all on film" is the documentary's producer Marti DiBergi, played by director Rob Reiner.

"I remember being knocked out by their exuberance, their raw power, and their punctuality."

This is Spinal Tap is basically a string of concert and "backstage" scenes as the band's tour goes progressively downhill. Interspersed are interviews that DiBergi does with different band members. Mimicking the concert movie's conventions perfectly, we see the band at various concerts (with smaller and smaller audiences), arguing backstage with each other and their manager Ian Faith (Tony Hendra), and waiting for the record company to actually release the album they're promoting.

The hold-up, as studio flack Bobbi Flekman (Fran Drescher in the part she was made for) tells them, is with the album cover, which she thinks is sexist ("what's wrong with sexy," Nigel responds). Once the album is finally released, there's internal dissension within the band over their lack of success and David's intrusive girlfriend, the fatuous Jeanine. Finally, the band inevitably breaks up. How they get there is one of the funniest road trips in movies.

"We are Spinal Tap from the UK. You must be the USA."

Some of the jokes are subtle. The band's record company is Polymer Records, a nice little spoof on Polygram. In another scene, the band has gotten lost backstage, and a janitor is giving them directions. The older man refers to making a little jog to the left, and Derek interjects, "We don't have time for that." But the line goes by so fast that I didn't catch it until my third viewing.

Other jokes are very broad. In one concert shot, the band begins a song by stepping out of transparent cocoons, but Smalls's cocoon won't open. So while the band continues with its opening number, Derek is pounding on the plastic while a crew member uses a blow torch to get it unstuck. Of course, he gets out just as the song ends and the other guys are going back inside. On paper, that might sound too obvious to be funny, but, like so much of the film, Reiner's direction and editing are exquisitely sharp. Cutting from band member to stage hand to another band member, the humor rises and rises until the final pay-off.

This aspect of building jokes on top of each other is one of the reasons Spinal Tap is so successful. In maybe my favorite scene (though that's a hard thing to choose), the band has built a model of Stonehenge for their pretentious Stonehenge suite. What they don't know is that the model is eighteen inches high instead of eighteen feet. As the band plays, the model is lowered from the ceiling as dwarves dance around it and "trod on it." Again, words fail where sight succeeds, for the scene provokes almost continuous laughter--we know what's coming, and the slow development of the joke makes it that much funnier.

There's also a classic moment of Nigel using a violin to play a solo on his guitar. Not a violin bow as Jimmy Page was fond of doing but an actual violin, rubbing across the guitar and making an awful feedback. That moment is a nice jab at the pomposity of rock musicians, but the real joke is what follows. Nigel pauses for a second as if something's not right and then bends down to tune his violin. This layering of gags on top of each other sets Spinal Tap apart from almost every other comedy. It's not content with just one or two jokes at a time; it finds ways to stack the laughter on top of itself.

"These go to eleven."

In the end, though, the highlights of the movie are the songs. Written by the three co-stars and Reiner, the songs are a series of bad puns, ludicrous sex-talk, and over-blown rock. From the hippie-influenced "Listen to the Flower People" to the heavy-metal anthem "Hell Hole," the tunes are dead ringers for other classic-rock bands. The only difference is the hilarious lyrics, my favorite of which is: "Big Bottom, Big Bottom/Talk about mud flaps, my girl's got 'em/Big Bottom, driving me out of my mind/How can I leave this behind?" Even David St. Hubbins can't help from laughing.

That laughter is a little clue to the improvised nature of the script. Reiner, Guest, McKean, and Shearer worked together from a bare outline and then improvised many of the scenes. That's often apparent in the interview segments when you can catch one of the actors stifling a laugh at something someone else said. The movie's direction is surprisingly assured for a debut director. Reiner captures both the hand-held nature of documentary filmmaking as well as the American Bandstand-style segments. The camera
angles and set design make for perfect satire.

Given Hollywood's success rate this summer, it must be hard to make a funny movie. But the stars of Spinal Tap make it look easy, riding that fine line of clever and stupid while always falling on the right side. As This is Spinal Tap opens the weekend after Labor Day, we agree with Sir Denis Eton-Hogg, "So say all of us . . . Tap into America!" 

J. Robert Parks