Jackass Forever (2022)

Jackass Forever is special because it feels like a joyful, full-throttle victory lap: a bunch of friends turning pain, stupidity, and fearless commitment into a weirdly communal kind of laughter. Jeff Tremaine keeps the pacing snappy and the setups surprisingly inventive, so even when you think you know the rhythm, the movie finds a new way to escalate the absurdity and make the whole theater gasp and howl at once. Beneath the bodily chaos there’s an unmistakable warmth—the camaraderie is the real engine here, and it gives the mayhem an affectionate, celebratory vibe rather than a mean one. Fair warning: it’s relentlessly crude, frequently nude, and proudly gross, so if that’s not your language, you’ll want to stay away—but if you’re on the fence and can handle the filth, it’s one of the funniest big-screen pressure-release valves in years.

Jackass Forever is trying to give fans one last victory lap: a loose, anything-goes mixtape of stunts, pranks, and cast banter that’s more about shared chaos than plot or craft. If you already know the brand and love watching grown men willingly get hurt, humiliated, and disgusted for a laugh, it delivers exactly that with a few genuinely inventive set pieces and a surprisingly warm “we’re still here” camaraderie. If you’re not predisposed to the Jackass sensibility, though, the movie can feel repetitive fast—wall-to-wall vulgarity, frequent graphic male nudity, bodily fluids, vomiting, animal-related gross-out, and real pain played for comedy with very little variety beyond escalation. In other words, this isn’t a gateway comedy; it’s a loud reunion for people who already find this kind of stupidity hilarious and everyone else will likely just feel trapped in the splash zone.