Jackass: Best and Last
Cinemark Theater
4012 Walnut St.
Philadelphia
July 8, 2026
Supposedly, this is the last Jackass movie, and this time, I believe them. It’s hard enough to stay alive for almost 30 years, and doing so while quite literally living on the edge of life and death for the sake of comedy is no small task. The series has a unique effect, creating seemingly endless topics for discourse by producing the lowest of lowbrow content. For most of my life, Jackass has been a comedic phenomenon that has influenced American culture by blending traditional slapstick, extreme sports culture, drug abuse, and generational idiocy to become, for better or worse, one of the biggest comedy troupes of all time. In 2026, the guys are sadly (finally) aging out of their ability to continue taking the risks that they have for this show.
Generally tailor-made for teenage boys, the sheer will to exist that has driven Johnny Knoxville and co. to consistently harm themselves and each other in increasingly creative and dangerous ways defined my adolescence. I have survived more crotch shots than I’ve had loving relationships in my life because of this show. Whenever it inadvertently happens now, I usually feel no pain and always respond the same way, “This shit is nothing to me, I’ve lived through the Jackass era.” When I see tears welling up behind Knoxville’s trademark sunglasses as he talks about how this is seriously the last one, it’s hard not to imagine that he’s probably gotten some kind of medical advice that he can’t ignore. It doesn’t seem like he wants to, and it’s clear he’s going to miss creating these idiotic stunts with his dear friends, but it’s impossible to downplay the signs of age in the original cast, excluding Chris Pontius. And honestly, I can’t understand why the fuck that dude still looks so good, and how he does so in all of the strange and inexplicable costumes he wears, often with no context.
To say that people my age grew up with Jackass is sort of paradoxical. The series doesn’t exactly inspire positive change in people’s lives, except for all the times that it did. The documentary that catalyzed Steve-O’s journey with sobriety after the death of Ryan Dunn has inspired millions. We watched Bam end up looking like a worse version of his father after straight-up bullying him on camera for two decades, giving one of the best arguments for the cosmic existence of karma that I’ve seen yet. The web of spinoffs catalyzed by the show rivals Monty Python, with Viva La Bam’s inextricable Philadelphian roots contributing significantly to this city’s ties to skate and alternative culture. Meanwhile, Jackass Forever’s reflections on aging and camaraderie while filming these patently dangerous stunts add a depth to the show that its audience didn’t even know they wanted.
One evening during my teenage years, I was watching the show when my mother entered the room. After responding with “just this really stupid show,” to my mother's question of what in the world was I watching, she continued to stand and watch, transfixed by the stupidity. An hour and a half later, my mom and I were cuddled on the couch, laughing and cringing together. The strangely universal appeal of the show that MTV simply couldn’t continue to say no to endures in the stunts, scatalogical humor, and absurdism of Best and Last as it’s combined with discussions of past sketches and stunts, aging, and fresh material with the new expanded cast. The opening scene of archived footage from 1998 of Knoxville shooting himself point-blank with a gun has been done on the show repeatedly, and even though we know that he survives, it somehow doesn’t cut the stunt’s tension. The bar fight sketch with Wee-Man and the rattlesnake room stunt where Knoxville terrorizes Bam, Danger Ehren, and Zach Holmes are fucking hilarious. The only missed opportunity I can see is not having Ice Spice rap about pooping during one of the film’s many shit-centered stunts.
I (don’t really) hate to say it, but Jackass is honestly peak white culture, and I’m sad to see it go. Jackass’ ability to repeatedly make me feel like I’m coming of age is proof that it is a timeless piece of art. How many times can I experience that in this life?
