The AL Wild Card Series was the next three days, and instead of watching it, I used the MLB app to listen to it on the radio. Exciting, but a sad ending. Also, even though they were starting at 6pm, and the things to keep the game moving were in effect, it was still tight getting to one of the last screenings of Spinal Tap II: The End Continues at the Coolidge. It was fine.
The thing that surprises me? It lasted a week longer than A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, which was gone from everywhere in two weeks flat despite having a couple bona fide movie stars Disappointed in myself for not supporting it.
Did I take that to heart over the weekend? No! After catching A Writer's Odyssey 2 on Friday night, I did crosswords for most of the next two days.
Hoping to do better next week; watch my Letterboxd account to see if I manage.
Zhong hua zhang fu (Heroes of the East)
* * * (out of four)
Seen 29 September 2025 in Jay's Living Room (off the shelf, Blu-ray)
Where to stream it (Prime link), or buy the disc at Amazon
I'm planning to write more about this in the next week as I finish the first Film Rolls post in away too long, but it will probably focus on how this and the other Lau Kar-Leung movie on the disc (Dirty Ho) are kung fu comedies that feel like they were completely dispensing with any pretense that the kung fu was just part of these movies' appeal or a way of telling the story. Here are guys who know how to fight, this story says, some wacky situations, and then let's go.
And, hey, it works; the movie's a ton of fun. I wish that I knew a bit more about Hong Kong/Japan relations in the late 1970s because in some ways this movie has a weird tension underneath: The arranged marriage eventually becomes reasonably warm, but while Ho Tao is initially described as just being pretty good at martial arts, he defeats a whole bunch of masters of various Japanese disciplines. Lots of movies and other bits of pop culture will try and walk a line where one is earnestly interested in and admiring of a foreign culture but with the unspoken assumption that one's own is better, although, hey, some of these folks are old enough to be WWII vets (and I've seen a lot of recent Chinese movies very focused on Japan as a sadistic occupying army), and one can't help but wonder what the thinking is here.
Spinal Tap II: The End Continues
* * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 1 October 2025 in Coolidge Corner #5 (first-run, DCP)
Where to stream it (Prime link), or pre-order the disc at Amazon
Logging this on Letterboxd, I noticed that there are at least three other Spinal Tap things between This Is… and The End Continues, treated as in-continuity but not that important for those who missed them. There's a line in there about the band always reforming and returning in some manner or other, but that's kind of a meta as the movie gets. This "series" has always been a more jovial and affectionate poof than cutting satire, and isn't necessarily going to change hats at this point.
Which is maybe a shame because there's the boomer bands that just keep going until they literally lose their senses - Elton John* is nearly blind, Huey Lewis's last album wound up short because of hearing loss, and Ozzy Osborne performed right up until his death - even though they're also selling their catalogs as estate planning, and nobody in a better position to do it. Instead, they're kind of playing the hits, sometimes literally, during seemingly endless rehearsal scenes, repeating jokes they've made before and settling for smiles of recognition rather than surprising laughs that catch one flat-footed. The funniest bit, perhaps, is Michael McKean's David St. Hubbins having moved into making ringtones and the like; it feels sharp compared to the randomness of what his bandmates are doing before the reunion show happens.
*That said, his voice is still great when he shows up as a guest star. McKean, Christopher Guest, and Harry Shearer have always had the chops to make things like Spinal Tap and A Mighty Wind credible, but they get outclassed.
I think, to a certain extent, the improvisational nature of these mock documentaries trips them up on occasion. One can occasionally see the kernel of a good idea but no great jokes forming around it. Sometimes that's the joke - Guest's Nigel is earnestly dumb, and his passions are the kind of dumb that they're just going to fizzle out without a proper punchline - but that's different from how they don't quite know what to do with Valerie Franco despite her feeling like a perfect part of the ensemble as the new drummer There are a few pretty decent bits here and there, enough for a matinee ticket or stream, but all too often it's the sort of thing that leaves one torn between wanting these old pros to be as creative as they once were and not begrudging folks who still enjoy performing or those who still enjoy watching them even though their powers are diminished
There's something occasionally kind of sweet about how none of these guys, including and maybe especially Rob Reiner's documentarian, have grown much wiser as they've aged; he's still kind of earnestly delighted to learn all he can about rock & roll and they're still finding pleasure in their eccentricity, not really seeing in resentment. The very fact that they've been doing these bits off and on for 45 years means that there's four or five separate groups of archive footage to pull from, and there's a solidity to it not always present in revived franchises, and that as much as the content of the movie is often disappointing, the group's choice to focus on why nostalgia can be a comfort once you get to a certain age is earnest and pleasant.
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