Flasz On Film

Johnny Knoxville, now gray-haired and battle-worn, sits in a makeshift electric chair ready to be shocked by someone in the background holding the remote. The premise, I believe, is for Knoxville to answer Steve-O’s questions and get zapped when he’s not truthful but it ultimately does not matter because we all know that Knoxville is going to get zapped multiple times anyway. For no particular reason.

But this is where things get interesting because Steve-O, in his characteristically gravelly voice of a man who spent his youth burning the candle at both ends while snorting coke off toilet seats at dingy night clubs and waking up with strange tattoos all over his body the next morning and climbing from under a pile of one-night stands, asks Knoxville a question that gives him pause. He reminds him that each of the now five official Jackass movies (not to mention just as many add-on movies full of footage that didn’t make the official release) was supposed to be their last one. And the question he had was if he thought that people would believe that what’s effectively titled Jackass: Best and Last is really their last hurrah instead of seeing Knoxville as an embodiment of the proverbial boy who cried wolf. Or how I would have framed it: if it is indeed their last, can it even be their best?

Knoxville’s facial expression changes for a millisecond. The mask of a clown slips for just enough for us to see how painful this moment is for him. He knows this is the end and the reason for this is tragic. These perpetual teenagers, grown men trapped in arrested development, have aged. They have gone over across the Roger Murtaugh line and now they are officially too old for this shit. Their bodies have suffered too much. Knoxville has faced serious medical emergencies as a result of the stunts he subjected himself to. He might not have been the one to volunteer for stuff involving bodily fluids or latently homo-erotic butt stuff, but he was always there when someone needed to strap themselves to a flimsy rocket, get shot with a rubber bullet, fall down a set of stairs in a box or face a raging bull. But the daredevil spirit has remained, encased in bodies no longer capable of taking the punishment like they used to.

The entire cast–from Johnny Knoxville, Steve-O and Chris Pontius to Preston, Wee Man, Dave Englund, Danger Ehren and others (even Bam Margera who appears only in archival footage and who has since fallen out with the group) resemble living illustrations of that iconic Top Gun quote uttered by Commander Jardian at Maverick: “Son, your ego’s writing checks your body can’t cash.” Those Jackass crew cheques have been in the mail for a while now. And now the debt collectors have come a-knocking. And they all know it. Which makes this particular movie feel final and answers Steve-O’s question. Yes, we do believe Knoxville when he says there’s no more Jackass to be made and the only way we could receive a tiny bit more of their legendary shenanigans is if they choose to release—as per tradition—all the extra footage that was left on the cutting room floor.

Therefore, watching Jackass: Best and Last is somewhat different and special. Some viewers might scoff at the notion of watching a movie filled with a lot of archival stunts that many of us have rewatched a number of times. I, on the other hand, felt seen. As a Millennial who spent his own teenage years watching Jackass on TV and rolling on the floor laughing at these guys who were just about in the age range of what would have theoretically been my older brothers, the idea of flipping between footage where Knoxville looks like a young boy and then immediately back to the present where he’s getting close to being able to play his Bad Grandpa character without any makeup on was nothing short of inspired. Nearly three decades of living on the edge captured on camera and left for posterity to cackle and gag over.

But let there be no doubt: contrary to how the title of the film could be interpreted, the Jackass crew did not leave their best for last. It’s not their best and last movie, a grand send-off in which you’d see stunts so dangerous and dares so gross that it would put all of their preceding efforts to shame. It is not that. Jackass: Best and Last is a compilation of their best stuff and their last stuff. But none of their last stuff is truly the best and they know it. And that’s exactly the reason why this movie hits this hard. The sense of finality is palpable throughout and even though you do see Steve-O eject a ping-pong ball out of his rectum and—in a different scene—receive a violent colonoscopy from a robot, the best of Jackass remains in those old bits dating all the way back to the late 90s, which consummate aficionados will remember from the opening credits sequence of the original MTV show.

Put bluntly, this is not a movie for everyone. Hell, it’s a movie that will alienate everyone but exactly two cohorts: (1) fans of the Jackass series who’ve been there in the trenches over the last few decades and (2) newcomers to the series who would have been in the trenches had they been alive then. Families and fans of gentle comedy need not apply, let alone anyone easily offended. Jackass: Best and Last, much like literally everything in this franchise that preceded it, is not for the faint of heart or those with a squeamish stomach. It’s gross and vulgar and nonsensical but it is by far a love letter to an entire generation (maybe even two generations) who had not only grown up now, but grown old. It is time to lay the Jackass experiment to rest and this movie does it with requisite and expected panache that only specific kinds of viewers will understand and salute. The kinds of viewers who will keel over laughing at the post-credit scene bringing back the iconic doorstop spring. If you know, you know.