Over 20 years ago, a young aspiring actor in Los Angeles filmed a video where he shot himself in the chest for the skateboarding magazine Big Brother. Around the same time, a group of tearaways in West Chester, Pennsylvania were making a name for themselves recording stunts and skits under the name Camp Kill Yourself. This was America in the late 1990s. This was the birth of Jackass.
Three seasons of television, four movies and countless hospital visits later, Johnny Knoxville and his merry band of japesters are calling time on their life-long love of getting injured on camera. Jackass: Best and Last arrives into a world that’s extremely different from the one the franchise was born into, yet certain inalienable truths remain: sometimes the old jokes are the best; the male anatomy is inherently amusing, and try as you might, you can’t reason with an angry bull.
Jackass has never had a ‘plot’ per se – each instalment comprises a series of largely unconnected stunts and skits. Best and Last follows this format, albeit with two charges befitting a finale: short interview segments between various cast members reflecting on their experiences, and the inclusion of archive footage, some previously aired, some only recently freed from the MTV vaults. With hundreds of hours of carnage to choose from, there are a few classics (‘Poo Cocktail Supreme’ and ‘The High Five’, though the clip cuts off before the best part) and some deep cuts, but the best moments are those never-before-seen, such as Bam Margera footage and the BTS of Knoxville’s painful run-in with a bull nixed from Forever. It’s a shame there isn’t more of this, which provides an insight into the lengths this gang have gone to in the name of getting the perfect shot. The interviews too could have easily occupied more of the screentime; the friendship aspect of Jackass has always been integral to its success and we’ve left wanting to hear more about the impact these wild films have had on the participants.
While all of the crew are present (Margera appears in archive footage) there’s a curious lack of involvement for the only official female member, Rachel Wolfson, who is largely relegated to standing in the background. It’s unclear if this is an editing oversight or her choice, but does little to help the suspicion that she was only added to the roster in 2022 in an attempt to correct the frat guy atmosphere. Women have always formed a strong part of the fandom, so it’s not as if they had been alienated by a previous lack of gender representation, and the history of cinema has proven women are just as game for acts of gross-out comedy and physical endurance. The failure to meaningfully include the one female member of Jackass in this final chapter feels more insulting than never having one to begin with.
It’s a fitting final outing for the Forever Young Kings of Comedy; one of the most impressive stunts culminates in the gang gazing down in shock at the decimated remains of dummies made to look like them in a darkly comedic meta moment, as if reminding us that it’s a miracle these films didn’t kill all of them. Yet the most poignant moment comes in the final credits — a compilation of footage which hammers home how much time has passed, accompanied by a long list of special thank yous, Tom and Jerry and Akira Toriyama among them. What was once written off as sanctioned buffoonery and derided for its emphasis on bodily fluids has come to symbolise the importance of lasting friendships and empathy in an increasingly fraught world. It might not be the most raucous or ridiculous send off, but Best and Last feels like the finale that Jackass deserves.
