The phrase “you find love in the most unexpected places” is perhaps cheesy and overwrought, but there’s a kernel of truth there. Love exists beyond just romance. Sometimes love, through witness or experience, comes into our lives with no preamble and changes our understanding of what it is and what forms it can take. And sometimes that unexpected place is a media franchise about dangerous stunts and cock and ball torture.
Although its reputation suggests pretty much anything to the contrary, the Jackass (2000-2022) franchise is about love and the beauty of human connection. Beyond the “guys being dudes” brand of pranks, and all the very 2000s shock humor, is a decades-long story of love and friendship. Behind all the bits is a group of long-time friends with bonds far beyond friendship. I do mean that Jackass truly does feel like the total encapsulation of the term “bromance”–and I’m not just referring to the incalculable amount of times the gang flashed each other or touched each other’s junk across the five films.
On its surface, the Jackass movies seem cut-and-dry. It’s five films of Johnny Knoxville, Jeff Tremaine, and their friends screwing around and doing stunts. These films epitomize the vibes and ethos of early-2000s counterculture: vulgar, raunchy, and sometimes gross. In a vacuum, I wouldn’t disagree. But, as a unit, the Jackass franchise is much more than simply stupid stunts for spectacle. They’re a nearly twenty-year-long saga of friends staying together through thick and thin and never losing that spark that connected them in the first place. These films survived and thrived through the strife of Hollywood’s ever-changing whims and tastes–not to mention two decade’s worth of socio-political strife. Fans kept flocking back to the antics, and the cast and crew kept returning with consistency. There’s a palpable stability to the bond that the crew shares, even through interpersonal strife and on-screen disasters.
I joke about the sheer amount of penis-based pranks and gags across the Jackass Cinematic Universe, but the homoeroticism of it all really cannot be ignored. Intricate rituals and whatnot, to paraphrase Richard Siken. Honestly, it’s baffling how often dick and balls get brought up without Jackass ever getting hit with the scathing, mid-2000s “gay” allegations. At a minimum, there are at least two or three stunts or pranks per film–usually involving Chris Pontius–that involve the gang exploring each other’s bodies or participating in some exhibitionist behavior.
But, aren’t the repeated phallus-centered bits also a declaration of love, in their own special way? Does it not take a certain amount of trust and care to have your friends run an electric current on your taint or cattle prod your crotch? Is the level of intimacy involved in Jackass’ stunts not the biggest sign of love and connection? The inherent homoeroticism between the Jackass crew goes beyond just guys being dudes.
I kid, partially. It’s hard not to focus on the homoeroticism of Jackass, but it’s not a compelling argument for the franchise being about love and the beauty of human connection. On a more serious note, what Jackass showed me about love is that it is enduring. Something I adore about the franchise is how little the formula changes as the years pass. Despite the gang getting older and a few notable departures, the original vision that the series’ patriarchs Jeff Tremaine and Spike Jonze set up stays the same. That’s a testament to the camaraderie of the production team both on and off-screen. Even in Jackass Forever and Jackass 4.5, which introduced several new members to the cast, the bonds are just as genuine as ever.
The level of trust required to go through the trials and tribulations of Jackass is nothing short of love in itself. A whole group of people so dedicated to being reckless for fun created a little-found family of sorts. Knoxville, Steve-O, and the gang that’s been there since the beginning clearly have a love and respect for each other that runs deep–and I’m not just referring to the number of times they’ve touched each other’s junk.
What Jackass taught me about love is that it can manifest in the wildest places, like on a DIY rental derby car track. It shows how “guys being dudes,” as silly as that sounds, is its own form of love. Even in dire and dangerous situations, or doing stupid homoerotic stunts, the trust and love the cast and crew have for each other is palpable. Love is forever, and so is Jackass.
Editorial Courtesy of Red Broadwell
Feature Image Courtesy of NME