JACKASS 3D Every workplace should have its own Johnny Knoxville.

REVIEWING JACKASS 3D isn't only a seemingly pointless exercise—it's a hard one. There's no plot, but that doesn't mean there's no structure; the Jackass movies are built like grandiose symphonies of stupidity. It's what makes them the dumb entertainment that smart people find safe to enjoy. Contrary to their critics, the Jackass films are not evidence of society's slow slouch toward idiocracy—being this fucking moronic requires way too much thought for that to be the case, and director Jeff Tremaine strings these skits together with a cartoon logic that Chuck Jones himself would applaud. 

There's no way to spoil Jackass, either: The introduction of every skit shows what it's going to do, then it tells you what it's going to do, and then it does it. I can tell you, for example, that Ehren McGhehey has dental floss tied around one of his teeth, and that the other end of that floss is tied to the bumper of Bam Margera's Lamborghini; you can deduce the rest. It's not about knowing what's gonna happen, it's about watching the shit go down. And I haven't seen anything this year funnier than "Poo Cocktail Supreme," "The Field Goal," "Pin the Tail on the Donkey," and about 10 other skits I won't even name.

There is a genuine surprise that opens the film, a nice nod to MTV's past that sets the tone for a (respectively) cuddlier Jackass. Endearing, even. The original felt like a high school graduation gone out of control, almost surprised at the sublime heights of idiocy it was achieving. Jackass Number Two felt like a college kegger about three seconds from a frothing overdose on the kitchen floor—equal parts laughs, uneasy squirms, and tooth-grinding discomfort. Jackass 3D, then, is a mildly inebriated 10-year reunion, the good old days reenacted with aging, sloppy bodies, captured in 3D. (The 3D is cool, by the way, though it's nothing compared to the amounts of slow motion used here—there's enough to make even Zack Snyder gag.)

Speaking of which: There's a lot of puke. And poop. And a lot of penises. Someone dumps a bucket of snakes on Bam, and Ryan Dunn reenacts a Maxell ad nobody in the film's intended audience could possibly remember. And then the reunion ends with a cute look at some yearbook photos cut amid some of your favorite nut-shots and projectile vomiting, as Dickhouse Productions turns the lights out on what seems to be the final adventures of Johnny Knoxville. It's actually kinda sweet.