Jackass Best and Last review. Honestly, going into Jackass Best and Last, I fully expected a lazy cash grab. You know the drill. A bunch of aging dudes trying to recapture lightning in a bottle. But I was wrong. Dead wrong. This fifth movie isn’t just another entry in a tired franchise; it is a raw, strangely beautiful middle finger to father time. Directed by Jeff Tremaine, this farewell tour operates as a bizarrely curated goodbye, comprised of about 30% new stunts, 30% unreleased archival footage that MTV sensors literally buried, and 40% greatest hits.
The movie kicks off with Johnny Knoxville’s very first pitch video from 1998. It is a masterpiece. Okay, calling a stunt where a guy willingly courts death a masterpiece is probably a stretch, but you get what I mean. The stunt is so intense that the “don’t do this” warning stays plastered on the screen the whole time, while Spike Jonze is screaming in the background to move it along. From there, the movie acts as this aggressive time machine. It violently cuts between the low-budget, shaky camcorder energy of the late 90s and the stark, sterile lighting of today. Seeing a bouncy, teenage Steve-O or a young Chris Pontius flashed right next to the graying hair and leathery skin of 50-year-old men is jarring. It hits you right in the gut.
And speaking of guts, the new stunts lean heavily into the brutal realities of aging, and I couldn’t stop squirming. Steve-O—who always gets the absolute worst gigs—receives a prostate exam from a dystopian AI robot equipped with a jar of crunchy peanut butter. Then there’s the scene where the crew drinks colonoscopy prep to play Twister in plastic pants, basically just pooping on one another. It’s repulsive. Knoxville, who is clearly still addicted to the showmanship of it all, allows himself to get flattened by a rodeo bull twice just to make sure the camera captures his flip perfectly. He also shoots himself while wearing a bulletproof vest padded with a stack of Hustler magazines. They are forcing us to remember all the critters that bit their members, aggressively cycling through legendary bits like the Red Rocket and the Poo Cocktail Supreme that launched Steve-O into the stratosphere covered in literal feces.
Personally, the archival footage featuring Bam Margera and Ryan Dunn is what broke me. It just hangs over the film. It’s a stark, unavoidable reminder of the addiction and the fatalities that have cursed this group off-camera. I don’t care much for the newcomers like Poopies, Jasper, Rachel Wolfson, or Dark Shark. Sure, they stand in to take some of the modern punishments, but they feel like third wheelers. The real magic has always been the deep, weirdly intimate brotherhood of the core guys. They endure these gross-out humiliations purely to make each other laugh. When Knoxville casually asks Pontius to do a high jump completely naked, he just agrees. No ego. Just flopping his genitals into his face for the sake of the joke.
The absolute hardest hitting moment doesn’t even involve a stunt. Standing in a parking lot, Knoxville is asked how it feels for this all to be over, and he actually chokes back sobs. He tears up admitting that they genuinely cannot do this anymore. As the screen repeatedly goes black for transitions, that finality really sinks in. Beneath the nutshots, the explosives, and the sheer stupidity, this is a survival story about male friendship. Will anyone ever be stupid—and brave—enough to do this again?
Honestly, sitting in the theater, it took me a minute to adjust. For the first fifteen minutes, the movie feels weirdly like a 90s sitcom clip show—or basically Jackass 4.5. But then it hits you. It’s actually closer to Toy Story 5. Yeah, I know how insane that sounds… well, maybe not completely insane if you think about it. You’re watching these aging millennials pass the torch, looking back at the “old toys” like Knoxville and Steve-O, while introducing the new generation of idiots.
They also dusted off some wild archival stuff that just makes you respect the early 2000s so much more. There’s a quick highlight of the Brad Pitt kidnapping bit from back in his Fight Club days. Seeing an A-lister willingly subject himself to this stupidity made me like him—and the Jackass crew—a hell of a lot more. Then there’s the Laurel Hardware stunt. MTV flat-out banned it back in the day, and apparently, the aftermath got them forbidden from filming in West Hollywood for an entire decade. We finally get to see that unhinged madness on the big screen.
And here is a controversial take for you: Jackass essentially invented YouTube. If Jennifer Lopez’s green dress created Google Images, the old CKY tape-trading birthed the entire culture of uploading stupid videos to the internet. Beyond that, they modeled a completely different kind of masculinity for the 21st century. You never hear a “no homo” panic from these guys. Knoxville wore a rainbow sticker on his helmet during the original rental car demolition derby, and they are constantly naked, attaching things to each other’s genitals, without an ounce of cruelty or homophobic fear. They are just entirely comfortable with their bodies. It’s a tight 92-minute gauntlet of pain that uses every single second, right through the credits, to prove exactly why we will never see a group of friends quite like this again.
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