[9.2/10] Rock and roll is the perfect backdrop for comedy. It’s a world that’s already pretty silly and exaggerated, so you can lean into the ridiculous of it all without feeling like you’re dragging the audience into a zany comic landscape without any connection to real life. But it’s also real enough that you can draw back to some sentimental moments and connections that, however steeped in middle school social politics, still have emotional force. That’s the perfect balance that *This Is Spinal Tap* strikes, with gags that feel outsized but never false, and emotional beats that veer into manchild-ness at times, but still come off as genuine.

That’s aided by the mockumentary format that director Rob Reiner uses here, and which would become the trademark of his stars, led by Christopher Guest, in the years to come. The faux-cinema verite approach brings some of the sillier elements of the film down to earth. Playing things straight lends a necessary air of reality to moments like a bass player getting trapped in a plastic pod, or an all black album cover, or little people dancing around a miniaturized version of Stonehenge. The pseudo-reality of it all actually makes those jokes funnier, because they feel like the imbecilic excesses and slip-ups of true idiots rather than the constructed comic setups they are.

That setup also creates the perfect canvas for seasoned comedy performers like Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer to riff, interact, and improvise and create a perfect comic rhythm in the film. There’s a fluidity to the talking head segments in the film, where the exaggerated free association games in-universe director Marti Di Bergi (Reiner) engages in with his subjects lead to all sorts of hilarious world building and humorous tangents. It’s telling that the most iconic line from the film, “these go to eleven” emerges from the clipped sequences and great comic timing of Guest’s lunkheaded rockstar acting as tour guide through a room full of music equipment. The sense of humor and loose vibe makes those great lines and funny moments stand out that much more.

But as much as *This Is Spinal Tap* makes the most of its mockumentary form to create its humor, it’s also just a ripping rock and roll spoof. Beyond their talents as performers, Guest, McKean, and Shearer put together some pitch perfect parodies of the excesses and crasseness of 1970s and 1980s rock. Tunes like “Big Bottom” and “Sex Farm” function both as “not far from the truth” tributes to sexually-charged tracks from the time, and also show off the legitimate musical talents of the trio, in addition to their charisma as performers. Part of the fun of the film is that you can buy these guys as real rockers, both on and off the stage.

That’s also what makes the stock story at the center of the film unexpectedly endearing. The rock band that’s driven apart by the lead singer’s new girlfriend was a cliché even in 1984. And the dwindling success of a once-great band is played for laughs expertly (“their appeal is getting more selective” is an all-time great bit of spin), but also for true pathos as the end of something. It’s too much to call *This Is Spinal Tap* a drama, given how much irreverence and goofiness is packed in, but the heartening feeling of reconciliation and joy when the group finds reunion and success is palpable and real.

But man, what brilliant comedy the movie manages to wring from that setup. On the fading star front, the number of shows that get canceled, and their manager’s efforts to keep the band from fretting over it, are superb. The way that the movie depicts the group on the wane, with crappier hotel rooms and sparsely-attended shows while the band themselves are half in denial leads to plenty of laughs.

The same goes for the brilliant parody of rock and roll indulgence and excess. I die laughing every time at Nigel tuning his violin before he smacks it onto his guitar. Derek’s cucumber incident has perfect comic timing, but it’s also a nice puncturing of rock star posturing and image. And David and Jeanine’s zodiac make-up sketches are an amusing send up of on-stage pageantry.

That’s the other half of why *This Is Spinal Tap*’s spoof is so effective -- it’s broad based. Yes, there’s the poking fun at lascivious rock songs. But there’s also flashbacks to a Beatles-esque clean cut era and a 70s flower child period for the band that suggest their musical devotion is not so pure. And the bits about stonehenge and other story songs make good fun of rock’s propensity to dive into Tolkein-esque imagery with zero substance. While perhaps not as wide ranging as Guest’s crew’s efforts in *A Mighty Wind*, this film still manages to cast a wide net and catch plenty of good laughs in the process.

And yet what’s striking to me is how well it manages to balance all that abject (and wonderful) silliness, with that genuine feeling at the end of the picture. In the background of all the brilliant takedowns of the image-conscious pomp and circumstances of being a rockstar is the sad undercurrent that this is the end of something. As much as Spinal Tap itself is played for laughs, the end of the band is also played as the end of friendship between two guys who, however doltish and self-possessed they may be, have been best friends for life.

That’s what the rock and roll backdrop does for *This Is Spinal Tap*. We already think of rock stars as kind of dim, oft-excessive, manchildren. That means that when Nigel or David act ridiculous, we buy it without losing sight of them as human being. The film turns its comedy up to eleven at times, but keeps it drama at a low hum. Just a shared look between David and Nigel, a note of frustrate when David realizes which songs can’t be played without his bandmate, a downtrodden gaze when Nigel feels displaced by Jeanine, tell the story subtly, letting the comedy fill the space but giving the final bit of emotion the punch to really work.

That’s what realism in an unreal place does for you. It lets your audience tap into the looniness without it feeling artificial or too wacky, while letting the sentiment of the piece come through when it needs to. U2 guitarist The Edge said that he wept at the film because it was “so close to the truth.” It’s that nearness to the real, ridiculous world of rock and roll which makes *This Is Spinal Tap* so easy to laugh with, but also so easy to feel when the last triumphant notes are played.