[8.6/10] The fact that this film is a spiritual sequel to *This Is Spinal Tap* should have been the tip-off. *A Mighty Wind* is eighty-four minutes of pure, if hilarious nonsense, and six minutes of real and utterly poignant human drama. Nobody manages to mix the thoroughly absurd and ridiculous with the undeniably true and affecting like the Christopher Guest crew, and it keeps the group’s films light, but gives them just enough substance to make them meaningful. The premise for this latest dose of mishegoss is that the longtime head honcho at a major folk music label has died, and so the biggest acts that he managed are reuniting to come pay tribute to him. Those acts include: The Folksmen (featuring the three most prominent actors/musicians from Spinal Tap), a trio of gentle harmonizers who have a quaint enough dynamic but little bumps and bruises under the surface; The New Main Street Singers, a collective of happy smiling crooners whose bright and shiny exterior masks some rough histories before and after joining the group; and Mitch and Mickie, a folk duo seemingly modeled after Bob Dylan and Joan Baez whose romantic duets curdled into hurt feelings behind the scenes. Most of this serves as an excuse for director Guest (who plays one of the Folksmen) and his team to build their semi-improvisational antics around. The New Main Street singers explain their tales of woe before they joined the group while folk historians explain the sordid lives of the folks who left it. The once-and-future Spinal Tap-turned-acoustic trio seem genuinely amiable but have a comically strained dynamic with one another. (Michael McKean in particular does superb work at having a low-key disdain for almost everything going on.) And the family of the deceased record label magnate scrambles to put this tribute show together in just two weeks while each having their own funny peccadillos. But the heart of the film comes from Mitch and Mickie. It’s not as though there’s no humor in that slice of the film. Eugene Levy puts on a very particular affectation as he’s channeling a sort of brain-addled ersatz Bob Dylan, with a halting cadence and a space case demeanor. His half-there speaking patterns and loony pleasantries are laugh-worthy in and of themselves. And there’s even a low key humor to the idea that these seemingly harmless, gentle middle-aged folk singers once had a dark side. And yet, there’s Catherine O’Hara’s Mickie as a counterbalance to that, who feels like she comes from a different movie, in a good way. It’s too much to say that O’Hara is playing it straight, because she still fits in perfectly within Guest’s milieu. At the same time though, there is such believable feeling when she talks about trying to get close to Mitch in the past but having him pull away, of her frustration when he goes missing, of the sort of unspoken but unattainable deep well of affection between the two of them that they never got right on. In short, O’Hara knocks it out of the park. There is a realism to her reflections on the past and hopes for this little tribute. She makes Mickie’s admiration and frustration with her partner believable, and the fact that the movie’s most down-to-earth character is paired with arguably its most out there character is a contrast that pays dividends from beginning to end. The thing that makes a Christopher Guest film tick, though, are the characters. With so many talented performers, each little talking head segment has the potential for a guffaw. Bob Balaban as the nebbishy, ultra-cautious son of the record exec is a treasure with every concerned look and garbled introduction he delivers. Fred Willard as the extroverted, annoying, and inept manager of the New Main Street Singers delivers his dose of cringe comedy to perfection. Ed Begley Jr. Scandanavian exec from a PBS equivalent spitting out yiddish phrases like he just stepped out from the Yeshiva is a laugh riot every time. In parts big and small, this crew (and some sharp editing) make each little character moment and interaction a winner. That’s the other benefit of the Guest crew’s semi-improvisational style. As silly as these proceedings are, the fact that everyone is responsible for their own character and story to some extent makes you feel like you’re genuinely dipping into this full-formed little ecosystem. In contrast to characters who only exist to serve the story, each of the New Main Street Singers, The Folksmen, Mitch and Mickey, and their associates and hangers on, feel like real personalities who live whole lives in a world we’re only getting a glimpse of. There’s a collaborative wholeness to the proceedings here, truly creating this quaint little interconnected web of people who take their folk songs very seriously. And yet, all the silliness stops when Mitch is MIA and it’s time for he and Mickey to do their famous song. *A Mighty Wind* milks the drama of his disappearance, nails the sweetness and feeling between he and Mickie when he returns with the rose, and delivers on the heartwarming but lightly tragic sweetness when they do share that one last twist, reminiscent of the one they shared so many years ago. Everyone backstage gathers around to see it (it’s the one song McKean’s character actually seems to like, which gives it some extra oomph!) and is clearly moved by the moment just as much as the audience is. That’s an impressive accomplishment for a film as goofy as this one is! But that’s the unsuspecting power of these Guest and company collaborations. They butter you up with the light comedy and then, even if it’s just for a moment, digs down into the realness and heart behind the clownish proceedings. *A Mighty Wind* is full of tremendous laughs as the usual cast of performers does what they do best with improvisational flair. But it’s also laced with that unexpected bit of poignant sweetness, that is affecting when all that silly comic power is used to tug at your heartstrings and not just whack at your funny bone.