Jackass: Best and Last

The Jackass crew reconvenes for a final rodeo in Jackass: Best and Last, the fifth theatrical film in the franchise that began as an MTV series in 2000. Directed by Jeff Tremaine, who has helmed every big-screen outing, the movie brings back Johnny Knoxville, Steve-O, Chris Pontius, Jason "Wee Man" Acuña, Dave England, Preston Lacy, and Ehren McGhehey for one last collection of pranks, stunts, and gross-out gags. Shot on a lean $10 million budget, it pulled in over $27 million worldwide, proving the brand still has legs even as the cast members push deep into middle age.

The film leans into the bittersweet reality of aging bodies. Every drop, kick, and electric shock comes with visible cost, and the talking-head segments let the crew reflect on two and a half decades of mutual abuse. Newer faces like Sean "Poopies" McInerney, Davon "Jasper" Wilson, and Zach Holmes join the veterans, bridging the gap between generations of Jackass chaos. The movie is rated R for good reason, delivering the same gleefully juvenile mix of slapstick violence and bodily harm, but with an undercurrent of nostalgia and brotherhood that gives the mayhem surprising emotional weight.

Early audiences responded with a record-breaking CinemaScore, and the film holds a modest 6.8/10 on IMDb from initial votes. Critics have been split, with some calling it a fitting farewell and others wishing it had gone straight to streaming. Either way, Jackass: Best and Last lands as both a raucous celebration and a heartfelt goodbye, closing the book on the original crew's run. [edit]

The film opens with Johnny Knoxville and the gang gathering at a familiar warehouse, the same kind of space where they've shot stunts for years. There's no elaborate setup, just a promise: this is the last one. Jeff Tremaine's camera captures the reunion with a documentary-style immediacy, as the crew jokes about their aches and pains before diving into the first bit.

What follows is a series of interconnected segments, each more absurd than the last. There are animal encounters, projectile-based bodily harm, and the return of classic bits like the high-five variants. The new members get their moments too, with Poopies taking a beating that would floor a younger man, and Jasper showing off his own brand of fearless stupidity. The veterans, meanwhile, approach each stunt with a mix of bravado and caution, their bodies reminding them that they're not in their twenties anymore.

Interspersed with the chaos are talking-head interviews where the cast reflects on their shared history. They talk about the injuries they've sustained, the friendships that have endured, and the strange brotherhood that formed from hurting each other for laughs. There's a palpable sense of nostalgia, especially when archive footage of Bam Margera appears. Margera, who parted ways with the franchise amid personal struggles and legal disputes after Jackass Forever, is present only through these clips, a ghost at the feast that adds a layer of melancholy to the proceedings.

As the film progresses, the stunts escalate in both scale and danger. The crew reconvenes at various locations, from deserts to suburban backyards, each setting providing a new backdrop for their particular brand of mayhem. There's a recurring segment involving a bull, a nod to Knoxville's iconic encounters, and a sequence with a porta-potty that goes exactly as you'd expect. The humor remains gleefully juvenile, but there's an undercurrent of mortality that surfaces in quiet moments between the explosions of laughter.

The central tension of the film is not a villain or a plot twist, but the question of whether the crew can actually walk away. Knoxville has stated this is his final film in the franchise, and the weight of that decision hangs over every stunt. The other members echo his sentiment, acknowledging that they're not getting any younger and that the pain is starting to outweigh the payoff. Yet, the lure of one more laugh is strong, and the film captures that push-and-pull with honesty.

Throughout, Tremaine maintains the franchise's signature vérité style, with the cast frequently breaking the fourth wall to address the camera. They acknowledge that this is the end, but they don't let the sentimentality slow down the pace. The film runs 1 hour 32 minutes, a tight runtime that keeps the energy high while allowing for moments of reflection. By the time the final act approaches, the audience is primed for a conclusion that feels both inevitable and earned.[edit]