By Tim Jackson

It is pretty clear that this Canadian band was not in the right place at the right time, despite the ferocious energy and speed of its music and sublime performances.

Anvil: The Story of Anvil, directed by Sacha Gervas. The rerelease will be available for digital streaming on November 1 and on Blu-Ray on December 1.

Robb Reiner and Steve “Lips” Kudlow of Anvil.

The Canadian band Anvil is often compared with the fictional band Spinal Tap, the titular group from the celebrated 1984 parody featuring Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer, directed by Rob Reiner. Ironically, Robb Reiner is also the name of Anvil’s drummer who, along with guitarist Steve “Lips” Kudlow, were at the center of the 2008 documentary Anvil: The Story of Anvil, which followed the band’s rise and fall in the late ’70s. The film was directed by Sacha Gervasi who, as a 16-year-old fan of the band, finagled his way into working as Reiner’s drum roadie. It dawned on him that the travails of the band would make a brilliant documentary. Briskly edited down from 320 hours of footage, the film went on to considerable critical success. Fourteen years later, the film is now in rerelease, with an epilogue in the form of a 2022 interview that catches up with the fortunes of Gervasi, Reiner, and Kudlow.

This improbable but true story begins with the fact that Anvil, who came together in 1978, were a defining influence on a coming wave of early ’80s metal bands, such as Anthrax, Slayer, and Megadeth. In their interviews, now wealthy rock celebrities pay homage. Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich: “When Anvil first showed up on the scene, it was, like, fuck, these guys are gonna literally turn the music world upside down.” Guns and Roses’ Slash: “Lips would come out in a bondage harness, playing guitar with a dildo … it was a complete turn-on for us kids, like something we’d never seen before.” The late Lemme of Motorhead; “If you’re not in the right place at the right time, you’ll never do it. That’s the whole thing.”

It is pretty clear that this Canadian band was not in the right place at the right time, despite the ferocious energy and speed of its music and sublime performances. These shows supplied the expected display of headbanging, guitar windmills, horned finger signs, phallic thrusting, tongue extending, fist pumping, studded leather outfits, and, of course, Lips playing the guitar with a dildo. Audiences loved it — for a while. After a furious opening sequence of concert footage, the film cuts to Lips Kudlow telling us about his day gig — preparing Shepherd’s Pie and meatloaf for Children’s Choice Catering, which provides food to schools and institutions. He is the delivery driver. Forever sporting a goofy grin but eternally optimistic, he philosophizes: “Even though Anvil doesn’t pay, it gives me the joy and pleasure to get through life.” His Buddha-like acceptance of the vicissitudes of fate are summed up in this piece of convoluted wisdom: “The way I look at it really is — it could never be worse than what it already is. If it never got better, that’s the way it is. Ya see what I’m saying? It could only get better. It can’t get worse from whatever’s gonna happen. There’s no way. But on the other hand, if it did get worse, at least this time after all is said and done I can say that all has been said and done.”

Lips Kunlow and fans. Photo: Brent J. Craig

Heavy Metal posturing, not to mention the two-ton hair and clothes, can begin to look and feel shopworn as musicians hit their 40s, 50s, 60s, or even 70s. The attempt to keep up appearances as they struggle provides much of the band’s current comic value. Anvil had, and likely still has, all the moves, and its members remain skilled performers on their instruments. For them, the band’s financial failure was the result of a succession of poor choices and some bad luck. There was a European tour that made no money; it was mismanaged by a less-than-competent Italian fan, Tiziana Arrigoni.  In a strange twist, she eventually married one of the band’s members, Ivan Hurd. In the film we see Anvil playing at the wedding reception.

The footage of that overseas tour reveals missed trains, less than rock star accommodations, and a sad array of venues. After a full performance in Prague they were stiffed out of their pay because they had arrived late. The band members nearly come to blows with the club owner. It is all so bizarre that, in the epilogue, it is disclosed that the doc’s cameraman, Christopher Soos, had to ask Gervasi if the musicians and club owners were actors reciting a script. But it was all real. Later, a gig in a 10,000 seat Transylvanian arena drew 174 people. Eventually the two old friends, Lips and Reiner, have a serious falling out. Tears flow, tempers flare, followed by fervid apologies.

But a second viewing of  Anvil: The Story of Anvil undercuts the absurdity. Here are two men dedicated to a singular mission — to play music and have it heard. There is a quirky integrity in that. We rarely hear a complete song but, tossing aside personal taste, these guys are undeniably good at what they do. One of their better producers, “TC” Tsangaridas, made an observation that could apply to many bands in search of stardom: “The songs have not been up to muster … compounded by having crappy record labels, crappy production, no management — no anything.”

On the bright side, Kudlow and Reiner are both good family men with longtime marriages. Kudlow’s wife declares: “I’m in love with the person. I’m not in love with the band.” She tears up when she acknowledges that “while the band is his dream and a bit of who he is, I think even he knows at the end of the day, that the family is what’s important.” Reiner’s sister, Droid, is not so forgiving: “It’s too bad no one’s living in the real world. When you’ve been a band for 30 years with 13 albums and you can still only get 100 people into a bar — it’s a joke.” Reiner’s wife, on the other hand, remains hopeful: “I’m trying to be the supportive rock star wife, I guess. Maybe I wanted to live that dream, as well.” In addition, Reiner turns out to be a surprisingly good painter. He designs the band’s covers and could easily sell his work. But, as seen in the film, construction appears to be his main means of support.

In the epilogue that comes with the rerelease, Kudlow and Reiner explain that the success of the 2008 documentary helped them achieve some of the notoriety they had always craved. They have  now completed 19 albums and Anvil is touring with bands the pair admire. In a post-pandemic, post-Trump world, in which so much feels upended, this commitment to music and family takes on its own nobility. As Kipling advised in his poem “If”:

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too …

You’ll be a Man, my son.

Or, as Kudlow proclaims during a rambling declaration in the documentary’s epilogue:

This movie made a difference to anyone who struggles in the arts or struggles to get ahead in life. Go for it. That’s what it’s all about. It never ends. Until the day you become a fuckin’ gardener pushing up daisies, this is what the truth is. This is what life is.

Tim Jackson was an assistant professor of Digital Film and Video for 20 years. His music career in Boston began in the 1970s and includes some 20 groups, recordings, national and international tours, and contributions to film soundtracks. He studied theater and English as an undergraduate, and has also worked helter skelter as an actor and member of SAG and AFTRA since the 1980s. He has directed three feature documentaries: Chaos and Order: Making American Theater about the American Repertory Theater; Radical Jesters, which profiles the practices of 11 interventionist artists and agit-prop performance groups; When Things Go Wrong: The Robin Lane Story, and the short film The American Gurner. He is a member of the Boston Society of Film Critics. You can read more of his work on his blog.