Call me crazy, but I just don’t need to see a grown man get head-butted repeatedly by a ram in a petting zoo. Or a man playing a trumpet with his butt. Or a man dressed like a chicken, flying through the air, getting pelted repeatedly with paintballs.
Sure I can understand that some people do want to see that, and I’m happy for them that Jackass 3D is now in theaters; it’s just not my cup of tea… or urine… or sweat.
And, to be frank, it doesn’t entirely seem that it’s the Jackass crew’s cup of tea anymore either.
Johnny Knoxville and company started the whole Jackass thing 10 years ago, and after three TV seasons and three and a half movies, it now looks like they may be ready to pack things up and ride off into the poo-smeared sunset.
Not only are some of the ‘skits’ tired repeats of things we’ve seen over and over again in the Jackass chronicles, the gang just doesn’t seem nearly as gung-ho this go-round. At one point Bam Margera comments about how he’s glad to be leaving the set early that day, and on more than a few occasions, Steve-O looks like a beaten man, just praying to get out of whatever foul mess he’s gotten himself into.
Jackass 3D starts with the gang whacking, kicking, and paintballing each other in super slo-mo, and from there we proceed to hop from one skit to another (there are maybe 20 in all).
They all go something like this: “Hi, I’m, (insert name here). And this is (insert skit name here)”. Person laments what they’re about to do. Person does it. All the other persons stand around laughing, or puking, or wincing… or all three.
To be fair, about a third of the skits actually work and are more than a little amusing. Among the winners— running a gauntlet of tasers and cattle prods, a spirited game of beehive tetherball, and recreating the classic 80s Maxell ad using an airplane’s exhaust pipe.
Another third of the skits are just about the most vile things ever put on film. I’ll just say “sweatsuit cocktail” and “porta-potty finale”, and leave it at that.
The other third of Jackass 3D is just plain forgettable. How many times do we have to watch the fellas getting upended and trampled by bulls? Or hit in the face with a boxing glove? Even the most promising set-ups (like hitting golf balls inside a closed racquetball court) fizzle before they even get going.
When the festivities finally do come to an end and the credits roll, we’re treated to a slide show of the boys’ grade school photos and footage of some of their earliest stunts, set to Weezer’s “Memories”. It’s almost as if they want us to forget what we’ve just watched and instead remember the good times.
And, really, you can’t blame them.