From the moment Johnny Knoxville’s sly voiceover warns the audience what they’re about to witness is a professional endeavor (despite all evidence to the contrary), Jackass Forever delivers pure Jackass, and, at least to a certain sect of millennials, that’s pretty kickass.
The fourth feature installment of the main Jackass line follows the same format as its predecessors, albeit with a more grandiose, genitalia kaiju-filled opening sequence. It’s stunt after bit after stunt at a blistering pace (there are at least 18 named stunts, with plenty others sandwiched between), with familiar faces and celebrity cameos galore. I’m not going to get into specifics, as half the fun is realizing what’s about to unfold real time, often right along with the poor souls involved, but the stunts are characteristically inventive, cringy, and downright tear-inducing. This might say more about the current depressed state of theatrical comedy, but this is the hardest I’ve laughed in the theater in years.
The Jackass draw is watching these guys in increasingly dangerous and inherently hilarious situations, but there’s something more to it. Although the cast members often treat themselves as crash test dummies, they’re far from lifeless. Each is his own character: Chris Pontius is the agent of chaos and mischief; Preston Lacy is the terrified friend along for the ride; Steve-O is an Animaniac; Knoxville is the slightly unhinged ringleader who knows exactly what buttons to push; etc.
They play off each other in ways that can only be a product of true friendship and understanding. It’s not a put-on, either, and there’s a sheer earnestness and care present amidst the hijinks. These guys obviously can’t believe they’re still out here doing this crap, and watching them play with house money is a blast. Too, it’s endearing to see new cast members, most memorably Zach Holmes, Rachel Wolfson (the franchise’s first woman!), Jasper Dolphin, and Sean “Poopies” McInerney (yes, Poopies). These fresh faces import the Jackass ethos into the next generation, one that dreamed of sacrificing their own bodily integrity to the Great God of big-screen laughs.
It’s this camaraderie that elevates what would otherwise be an entertaining-but-forgettable YouTube compilation to a true cinematic experience. Most everyone watching was at one point or another a member of their own stupid group of friends doing stupid things, and watching Jackass triggers a nostalgia for that experience. It doesn’t hurt that these memories probably overlap directly with watching Jackass and rolling on the floor in convulsive laughter.
However, I don’t mean to paint this film as deep, incisive commentary on masculinity or some other heady concept. Clearly, neither do its creators, as the film hardly touches on anything beyond the titular jackassery’s embodiment. Sure, there’s a sweetness and tangible fondness absent from prior entries, but that’s all implicit. They’re not overtly interested in anything other than upping the ante in groin torture in pursuit of shared stunt nirvana.
There’s a world in which Jackass Forever became an introspective commentary on mortality and the mental and physical toll taken through decades of constantly chasing the stunt dragon. Ryan Dunn’s tragic absence speaks to that uncurrent, and there’s a moment later in the film that hits it right on the nose. Steve-O, when he gets one look at the bull with which Knoxville is about to unsuccessfully engage, says something along the lines of “I wouldn’t even get in a bullring back when I didn’t want to live.” It’s deeply sad, and I wish the film explored those feelings, at least a little.
That version doesn’t exist though, and instead, the films treats audiences to the cinematic equivalent of a fireworks show, complete with an extravagant finale. And that’s okay! Sure, it’s one-note, and that one note can get old quickly. But the highs are extremely high, and it stands as a testament to the enduring allure of Jackass.
