Jackass: Best and Last (2026) - Final Stunt Review

Let’s be honest: a Jackass movie has never had a plot, and Best and Last doesn’t suddenly grow a script. The "story," such as it is, revolves around the crew - Johnny Knoxville, Steve-O, Chris Pontius, Jason "Wee Man" Acuña, Dave England, Preston Lacy, and Ehren McGhehey - gathering one last time under the guise of a corporate-mandated "safety seminar." This thin framework allows them to trot out the greatest hits: the bull, the pogo stick, the snapping gators, and a frankly unhinged array of portable toilets. But threading through the chaos is a melancholic subtext. The guys are older, slower, and nursing a museum of chronic injuries. They talk openly about retirement, about the toll on their bodies, and about the legacy they’re leaving behind. The stunts are still batshit crazy, but they’re framed with a reflective wistfulness that elevates the material. There’s even a poignant tribute to the late Ryan Dunn, woven through archival footage and old-school clips, which grounds the lunacy in real, aching loss. The "plot" is really just a countdown to the inevitable - an ending they’ve been circling for two decades.

What makes Best and Last work so well is the palpable shift in energy. The raw, feral aggression of the early 2000s has mellowed into a sort of wizened self-sabotage. Knoxville, now pushing fifty, doesn’t just charge the bull; he gives it a little pep talk first, a resigned sigh before impact. Steve-O, miraculously alive and sober, approaches each stunt with the manic glee of a man who knows his number is up but wants to go out swinging. The physical comedy is still top-tier - there’s a bit involving a giant slingshot and a bag of human feces that will go down in infamy - but the laughter is often tinged with wincing sympathy. You’re not just laughing at them; you’re laughing with them, knowing full well that Pontius’s "Party Boy" routine now requires a chiropractor on standby.

The film’s structure cleverly intercuts new stunts with nostalgic flashbacks, creating a dialogue between the reckless kids they were and the battered men they’ve become. It’s a masterclass in editing, giving newcomers enough context while rewarding longtime fans with deep-cut callbacks. The archive footage of Bam Margera, included as a ghostly echo of the original lineup, is handled with a surprising tenderness. It’s a reminder that this franchise was always a family, albeit a deeply dysfunctional one. The new stunts themselves are inventive and brutal - a "cactus sled" sequence is a particular nightmare - but they feel secondary to the vibe. Tremaine wisely lets the camera linger on the aftermath: the laughing, the hugging, the shared gasps of pain. This is a movie about brotherhood, and the stunts are just the price of admission.

If there’s a criticism, it’s that the pacing sags in the middle third. Some bits run long, and the "one last ride" narrative occasionally feels repetitive - how many times can they fake a retirement announcement? But the emotional payoff is undeniable. The final act, culminating in a group "last laugh" that involves a giant firework, a trampoline, and a bucket of pig guts, is a perfect summation of their ethos. It’s stupid, dangerous, and deeply, profoundly loving.

Pros

• A surprisingly touching and reflective tone that honors the legacy without sacrificing the chaos.
• The physical comedy remains inventive, with several new classic set pieces.
• Excellent use of archival footage, especially the respectful tribute to Ryan Dunn and inclusion of Bam Margera.
• The chemistry among the core cast is as warm and infectious as ever.
• Crisp 92-minute runtime; it doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Cons

• The middle section drags with a few overlong, repetitive bits.
• Some of the "finality" is undermined by the self-aware, wink-at-the-camera framing.
• The documentary-style emotional beats occasionally clash with the pure slapstick tone.
• A few stunts are toned down compared to earlier entries, clearly due to age and safety concerns.

Jackass: Best and Last is more than a collection of stunts; it’s a eulogy written in bruised flesh and laughter. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel - it just puts a rocket on it and aims it at a wall, one final time. The film’s greatest trick is making you care deeply about a group of men who are, by all rational metrics, clinically insane. It’s a messy, gross, and deeply human farewell. While it may not be the funniest entry in the franchise, it is undoubtedly the most meaningful. You walk out with a smile, a tear, and a newfound appreciation for the simple art of falling down on purpose. This is a definitive end, and it’s a damn good one. The TMDb score of 7.554 feels right, maybe even a touch low. This is a four-star send-off for a five-star legacy of pure, unadulterated idiocy.