Forty-one years after basically inventing the “mockumentary” genre in This Is Spinal Tap, the band is back together in the annoyingly titled Spinal Tap II: The End Continues. (How about This Was Spinal Tap or This Is Still Spinal Tap or Tapped Out or, really, anything else?) It’s been fifteen years since guitarist Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest), lead vocalist David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean), and bass player Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) have performed together, but a long-neglected contractual obligation forces them to reunite for one show at the Superdome in New Orleans. Naturally, filmmaker Marty Di Bergi (director Rob Reiner) is there to capture it all. This Is Spinal Tap was, among other things, an affectionate but biting satire of the music industry, but this belated sequel forgot to put its dentures in.

Fans of “England’s loudest band” know that its first big hit was the Beatlesesque pop confection “Gimme Some Money,” so the fact that this barely feature-length toss-off is a blatant cash grab shouldn’t be a shock. Almost everything about it feels obligatory, from the cameos by Paul Shaffer as promoter Artie Fufkin (now working in the used car field) and Fran Drescher as publicist Bobbi Flekman to the endless Stonehenge references. Tony Hendra, who played mercurial manager Ian Faith, died in 2021, so Kerry Godliman steps in as Ian’s daughter Hope Faith (get it?). Why Dana Carvey and Billy Crystal didn’t reprise their mime characters we may never know, but one suspects it’s because they read the script.

What have our beloved Tappers been up to? Nigel runs a combination cheese and guitar shop with his girlfriend Moira (the adorable Nina Conti), David plays in a California mariachi band and composes podcast theme music (his Yoko-esque wife Jeanine became a nun), and Derek curates a museum of glue while working on an orchestral piece about Satan’s hairpiece called “Hell Toupee” and shilling crypto named, for some reason, after 16th century Dutch painter Pieter Breugel. “Hell Toupee” is one of the movie’s two good original jokes, and even it’s reprised from a 2019 live performance. The other LOL moment is the introduction of a band-branded beverage called…wait for it…Tap Water. (Of course, it comes in a Stonehenge-shaped bottle, because you can’t flog that horse enough.)

Once reunited, without much fuss, the trio, joined by their twelfth (but first female) drummer, head into the studio for rehearsal. There, the film’s funniest performer, none other than Sir Paul McCartney, pops by to marvel at their efforts. Later, Sir Elton John shows up and even joins the boys on stage. Perhaps some sort of secret royal edict required their participation, but most of the other numerous cameos don’t have that excuse. Instead, they signal a desperate, nostalgic plea for Tap’s relevance as both musical and comedic icons. Questlove and Lars Ulrich are invited to audition but, knowing the fatal history of the band’s percussionists, decline. Garth Brooks (?!?) covers Big Bottom. Stuff like that.

The band members themselves lack the distinct personalities that made them each so oddly endearing back in 1984—now, they’re all equally doltish seniors with unfortunate hairstyles and moderate musical chops. Most disappointing, though, is the movie’s disinterest in coming up with any new material, lazily opting to toss off callback after callback to songs or gags from its predecessor. And yet, when St. Hubbins remarks of a flatulent stage effect, “That’s not clever,” the golden opportunity to revisit his famous “fine line between stupid and clever” quote goes untaken. It’s all enough to make you wish that the dimwitted Nigel had been able to pursue his dreams of haberdashery and leave all this rock and roll stupidity behind. (Wide release)

The Long Walk: In a vaguely post-apocalyptic, but 1980s-coded, America, reunited after a disastrous civil war, a yearly contest occurs. One teenage boy from each of the 50 states is selected by lottery to compete in The Long Walk. From a starting line, they must constantly maintain a pace of 3 miles per hour on foot: anyone who doesn’t is, after three warnings, summarily executed by the soldiers driving alongside them. The last one standing gets a huge cash prize and is granted one request. That’s the setup of the 1979 Stephen King novel (originally published under his pseudonym Richard Bachman) adapted here by screenwriter JT Mollner (Strange Darling) and director Francis Lawrence, whose experience helming the similarly YA-dystopian themed Hunger Games franchise likely earned him this assignment.

It’s a grim setup, and The Long Walk turns out to be quite a slog. Cooper Hoffman (Licorice Pizza) and David Jonsson (Alien: Romulus) star as two entrants who immediately bond and are clearly earmarked to be among the last survivors. They’re given numbers 47 and 23, respectively, which are both primes, although that’s not noted in the film. Surrounding them are a variety of types played by a cast that’s more racially diverse than depicted in the novel, but who remain squarely within the lines of typical King teens: horny, casually homophobic, and possessed of the adolescent arrogance needed to even sign on for this death march. (The participants are all volunteers who applied, not draftees who were impressed into duty.)

An almost unrecognizable Mark Hamill plays The Major, the commanding officer and master of ceremonies for this grim spectacle. He exhorts the youths to keep at it, even as their torturous trotting continues for mile after mile and day after day. When the inevitable charley horse, twisted ankle, or (cover your eyes) bout of diarrhea strikes, the offender is dispatched with a bullet to the head, often depicted in unnecessarily graphic close-up. When the novel was published in 1979, it acted as a harsh thought experiment that perverted the Horatio Alger mythos of hard work and rags-to-riches triumph and was informed by the randomness of the draft during the Vietnam War. Today it feels more like an indictment of late-stage capitalism writ large, although the film frustratingly avoids making more than token references to the wider world, instead choosing to tell, ironically, a character-based story of grit and survival more than a metaphor for anything in the real world.

Coincidentally, or at least responding to the same Jungian cultural undercurrent, another Richard Bachman story, published only three years after The Long Walk, will be hitting theaters in a couple of months. This one also depicts a future in which ordinary people put themselves in deadly predicaments that become media sensations in pursuit of glory and riches. These tales were conceived long before shows like Survivor or Fear Factor aired, and before the Internet allowed anyone willing to abase or abuse themselves before a worldwide audience and (sometimes) get rewarded for it. The fact that reality has caught up with and, in some cases, surpassed the imagination of the modern master of the macabre is both a testament to his imagination and a stain on our society. Even so, these boys had to take The Long Walk so that The Running Man could run. (Wide release)

The Baltimorons: After carving a path through American independent cinema that started with The Puffy Chair twenty years ago and continued with understated comedies such as 2011’s Jeff, Who Lives at Home and 2012’s The Do-Deca-Pentathlon, the filmmaking Duplass brothers, Jay and Mark, largely went their separate ways. They continued to produce and otherwise support the work of fellow indie filmmakers, but Mark became something of a TV star with his Emmy-nominated work on The Morning Show while Jay continued to mostly work behind the camera, most recently directing several episodes of the acclaimed series Somebody Somewhere. (Both have been staggeringly prolific in many roles, so this is an overly brief summation.) Now, a dozen years after his last feature, Jay returns to the director’s chair for this amiable comedy about the misadventures of a stand-up comic in recovery and his emergency dentist on one Christmas Eve in Charm City.

Cliff (Michael Strassner, who co-wrote the film with Duplass) is six months sober and on the verge of getting his mortgage broker’s license after swearing off his career in improv theater. Arriving with his fiancée at her mother’s house on the morning of December 24th, he trips and knocks out a tooth. The only dentist available is Didi (Liz Larsen), a divorced mom who learns that her grown children will be attending her ex-husband’s wedding reception instead of joining her for holiday dinner. From this original meet-cute scenario, the two of them end up rescuing his Cadillac from an impound yard, posing as a couple at that reception, and crabbing for soft-shells in Baltimore Harbor, among other things. He’s a self-deprecating schlub with a heart trying to figure out his life, while she’s a guarded, middle-aged woman who’s resigned herself to a life alone. Neither are movie-star pretty, and one of the pleasures of The Baltimorons is seeing the familiar structure of a 24-hour romcom laid over characters who exist in real life and reflect the sturdy grit of the city where they live.

Cinematographer Jon Bregel, shooting his first feature, gives the film an appropriately grainy look that almost tricks you into thinking you’re seeing a Neil Simon film made in 1970s New York City. And both leads are endearing and funny (although Cliff’s failure to make a joke about Didi having a D.D.S. degree is unforgivable). Like much of the Duplass’ early work, there’s a comfy shagginess that sometimes slows its narrative momentum—this is a 100-minute movie that could have been a brisk 85. Still, it has its pleasures and could become a minor alt-Yuletide tradition. (Regal Fox Tower, Living Room Theaters)

Also this week

Democracy Noir: The rise and rule of Hungary’s Viktor Orbán and his nationalist, far-right Fidesz Party have been seen as a blueprint by America’s Republican Party in its increasingly successful campaign for a single-party, authoritarian regime in which the trappings of democracy remain but are blunted and ineffectual. So, if you’re wondering where ideas such as stacking the Supreme Court; using racism, nativism, homophobia and transphobia to manipulate voters; gerrymandering competitive elections out of existence; and upending time-honored constitutional values got their first real road test in the 21st century, this documentary is essential viewing. While charting the methods Orbán and his fellow oligarchs have used to dismantle democratic institutions, director Connie Fields’ gripping account also spotlights those who continue to resist. Democracy Noir profiles three women—an opposition politician, an independent journalist, and an activist nurse—who inspire through their persistence, even as they battle doubts that they really belong in a nation that seems to have rejected their ideals so thoroughly. Perhaps you can relate. (Sunday 9/14 through Tuesday 9/16, Cinema 21)  

Vick & Tarstar’s Scarecrow Factory: The latest effort from microbudget “mumblegore” production company Blood Sick Productions looks to be a metafictional tale about the making of a microbudget “mumblegore” film. Director Brewce Longo in attendance for a Q&A. (Monday 9/15, Hollywood Theatre)

Spaces of Exception: This 2017 documentary juxtaposes the experiences and geographies of two disparate groups living under occupation: Native Americans living on reservations in the American West and Palestinians living in refugee camps in Gaza and Lebanon. (Tuesday 9/16, Clinton St. Theater)

Nymphs (Anonymous): This 1968 sexploitation entry centers on a club run by women in Zorro masks who supply male prostitutes to horny female suburbanites. When the husband of one such customer discovers her proclivities, he puts on a monkey mask and starts taking out the company’s studs. It’s a comedy, and one that reportedly features plenty of nudity. (Tuesday 9/16, Hollywood Theatre, on 35mm)

Eternity’s Pillar: As part of the album release party for the new record from The Cosmic Tones Research Trio, episodes of the mystical 1980s Los Angeles cable access show hosted by Alice Coltrane will screen, offering spiritual guidance and vintage video effects. (Tuesday 9/16, Hollywood Theatre)

Labyrinth of Dreams: In Gakuryū Ishii’s 1997 psychological thriller, a female bus conductor falls for a driver, even though she suspects that he’s a serial killer who has disposed of previous conductors. Black-and-white cinematography and period style combine to conjure a tragic, brooding, almost mythic vibe. (Wednesday 9/17, Clinton St. Theater)

CINE/SEEN Film Showcase: The Oregon Media Production Association presents this evening of new work from underrepresented filmmakers. If you’re interested in the future of cinema, this isn’t the worst place to start. (Wednesday 9/17, Hollywood Theatre)

VOD/Streaming

Drowning Dry: A weekend at the lake becomes a turning point in the lives of two families in this drama that was Lithuania’s submission for the Best Foreign Film Oscar. Sisters Ernesta (Gelmine Glemzaite) and Juste (Agne Kaktaite), along with their husbands and children—one each—arrive at a country house for a holiday break, and Laurynas Bareisa, a cinematographer making his feature directing debut, films them from a distance as they unpack and settle in. Ernesta’s husband Lukas (Paulius Markevicius) is an MMA fighter, while Juste’s, Tomas (Giedrius Kiela), strikes a paunchier profile, and there’s an undercurrent of rivalry or resentment between the men that seems shared between the sisters as well. Little happens in the film’s first half hour, but Bareisa’s camera remains an unsettling presence as mundane scenes play out in long takes. Then, the film’s inciting incident occurs, triggering a permanent trauma that plays out for the rest of the running time. Only it does so in unexpected ways: Bareisa moves back and forth in time, even repeating scenes we’ve already seen (or think we have) in ways that create questions and lead to revelations without being gimmicky or confusing. The performances are all utterly natural, and once all is revealed about that momentous weekend, the movie packs a real punch. (Streaming on MUBI)

Home video

Save the Tiger: One of the least celebrated major Oscar wins of the 1970s was Jack Lemmon’s Best Actor prize for his work in this downbeat 1973 drama centered on a successful garment factory owner who finds his carefully constructed, comfortable world threatening to collapse around him. Harry Stoner (Lemmon) and his wife Margo (Lara Parker) live in Beverly Hills and have a full-time, Spanish-speaking maid. But Harry’s been having nightmares, prompted by the fact that his company’s finances are a house of cards built on shady accounting by his business partner Phil (Jack Gilford, also Oscar nominated). On the day of the annual fashion show debuting their new product lines, Harry and Phil must negotiate the lecherous demands of an out-of-town buyer while meeting with an arsonist to discuss the intentional torching of one of their factories for the insurance money. John G. Avildsen, following up his explosive 1970 debut Joe, directs with the same authenticity and edge that he would soon abandon to make Rocky, The Karate Kid, and other commercial hits. Save the Tiger has been described as the first film to tackle the dilemma of the aging Greatest Generation: Harry served in World War II and subsists on nostalgia for the Brooklyn Dodgers and an America that hardly resembles the one he lives in now. Lemmon’s performance, though not his first foray into serious drama, is among the best in his career, imbuing Harry with a helplessness and desperation that make his confusion and resentment more pitiable than ridiculous. The new Blu-ray release from Kino Lorber includes a pair of audio commentaries, each worthwhile. One, recorded for an earlier release, features Avildsen (who died in 2017) in conversation with screenwriter and producer Steve Shagan, whose other work included 1980’s The Formula (also directed by Avildsen) and 1996’s Primal Fear. They offer fascinating insights into the film’s production and Lemmon’s willingness to avoid his usual mannerisms in service to this downbeat role. The other track, from film historian Dwayne Epstein, the author of the definitive Lee Marvin biography, provides a more objective context and notes, among other things, that Lemmon’s win came against perhaps the greatest lineup of Best Actor nominees in the award’s history: Marlon Brando in Last Tango in Paris, Al Pacino in Serpico, Robert Redford in The Sting, and Jack Nicholson in The Last Detail. That the statuette went to the least showy, least star-powered of these performances is a testament to Lemmon’s craft.

Also opening

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale: “When Mary finds herself in a public scandal and the family faces financial trouble, the household grapples with the threat of social disgrace. The Crawleys must embrace change with the next generation leading Downton Abbey into the future.” (Wide release)

Traumatika: “Mikey’s night terrors become reality when his mother begins showing signs of demonic possession. What he’s about to experience will haunt him for the rest of his life and claim countless lives across generations.” (Bridgeport Village)

The Jester 2: “When teen magician Max crosses paths with the sinister Jester on Halloween night, she must outsmart a supernatural killer whose magic is all too real and whose tricks always end up in blood.” (Eastport Plaza, Cedar Hills, Bridgeport Village, Monday & Tuesday 9/15 & 9/16 only)

Repertory

Friday 9/12

• Cape Fear [1962] (Academy Theater, through 9/18)
• Crimson Tide [1995] (Cinemagic, also 9/13, 9/15, 9/18)
• Deep Blue Sea [1999] (Cinemagic, also 9/16 & 9/17)
• Desperately Seeking Susan [1985] (Academy Theater, through 9/18)
• Godzilla vs. Hedorah [1971] (Tomorrow Theater)
• The Insider [1999] (Hollywood Theatre, on 35mm)
• Jaws [1975] (Kiggins Theatre, through 9/14)
• Marie Antoinette [2006] (Tomorrow Theater)
• On the Town [1951] (Kiggins Theatre, also 9/13)
• The Sound of Music [1965] (Eastport Plaza, Cedar Hills, Clackamas Town Center, through 9/17)
• Spirited Away [2001] (Academy Theater, through 9/18)
• Toy Story [1995] (various theaters, through 9/20)
• V for Vendetta [2006] (Clinton St. Theater)

Saturday 9/13

• Billy Madison [1995] (Hollywood Theatre, also 9/14)
• Broadcast News [1987] (Cinema 21)
• Flesh and the Devil [1927] (Hollywood Theatre, w/pipe organ accompaniment)
• The Last Class [2025] (Cinema 21)
• Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World [2003] (also 9/14, 9/15, 9/18)
• Pan’s Labyrinth [2006] (Clinton St. Theater)
• The Social Network [2010] (Hollywood Theatre, on 35mm)

Sunday 9/14

• Body of Evidence [1993] (Hollywood Theatre)
• Children of Men [2006] (Clinton St. Theater)
• The Fly [1986] (Tomorrow Theater)
• The Hunt for Red October [1990] (Cinemagic, also 9/16 & 9/17)
• Yatterman [2009] (Hollywood Theatre)

Wednesday 9/17

• Eno [2024] (Cinema 21)

Thursday 9/18

• Between the Mountain and the Sky [2025] (Cinema 21)
• Emma [2020] (Tomorrow Theater)