Movie Review: "Jackass: Best and Last"; Growing Up Means Saying Goodbye

8/12 ForReel Score | 3.5/5 Stars

I was nearly six months old when Johnny Knoxville stuffed a handful of Hustler magazines beneath a bulletproof vest, pressed a revolver to his stomach, and pulled the trigger. The discharged bullet pierced his shirt and pornos, but stopped short of his skin. Knoxville was, unbelievably, fine. Scared and startled, but fine. He and a couple of friends wielding camcorders fled from the scene of their stupidity, grinning gleefully as they piled into the back of a car. And it was there, in that incredibly foolish and fortunately non-lethal moment of detonation, that Jackass was born.

Image courtesy of Paramount Pictures

In the nearly 30 years since, Jackass and I have grown together. For as long as I’ve been alive (give or take six months), Johnny Knoxville and his cohort have performed often dangerous, always outrageous stunts for no reason other than to put a smile on our faces… and maybe to prove that God’s greatest creation is unkillable. I thought Jackass would live forever. But Father Time catches even those careening away in rocket-powered shopping carts.

Jackass: Best and Last, the eleventh installment in the film franchise, delivers on half of its title. It is, barring the Fountain of Youth suddenly appearing in Wee Man’s living room, the “last” Jackass film. “Best” is more open for interpretation. While all Jackass films are essentially 90 minute clip shows, Best and Last extends the premise into a montage of the best moments from the last 25 years of Jackass. There is new material, but it’s few and far between. Most of the footage shot for Best and Last is ancillary to the walk down memory lane. Insofar as this new film contains the “best” moments from the nine core Jackasses, it is the “best” Jackass, but as a standalone project, it is a doleful realization that the game left these men before they left the game.

Of course, sitting with 25+ years of hijinks in a dark and crowded theater one last time is not without its charms. (How sad can a funeral procession truly be when a robot’s crammed its peanut butter-lubricated claw up Steve-O’s asshole?) This intercutting montage of stunts pulled when their bodies were more malleable allows the Jackasses space to reminisce without risking major bodily harm in this final installment, and it allows audiences to revel in glory days that may have passed us by ourselves. 

Image courtesy of Paramount Pictures

It also allows for former cast members, such as Ryan Dunn, who passed away from a car accident in 2011, and Bam Margera, whose struggles with drugs and alcohol have kept him from participating in recent installments, to shine once again. Above all, Best and Last’s distinct style serves as a carousel of memories for friends I’ve grown up with: a nude Chris Pontius, a tortured Danger Ehren, a shit-covered Dave England and Preston Lacy. It’s nearly impossible to maintain one’s composure while experiencing that final spin on the carousel.

When I walked out of the film — tears dried on my cheeks from laughter and, well, you know… farewells aren’t easy — the theater halls were echoing with Jeff Buckley’s rendition of “Hallelujah,” and I was struck by the incredulity of this final Jackass. These men (and countless guest stars) spent a lifetime throwing themselves down stairs, torturing their genitalia, testing the power of bees and bulls, literally shooting each other, and they lived. In that way, it’s a miracle that Jackass: Best and Last exists at all. And, while it hasn’t always been an easy ride, it’s been a blessing to grow up alongside that miracle. Hallelujah indeed.