Comedy, generally speaking, is not put through the critical ringer in the same way that other genres are. For whatever reason, the comedic equivalent of The Hurt Locker (to take at random an example of a mainstream “art” film, without dwelling on the spurious artificiality of such a categorisation) does not exist. Art-comedy, by and large, is not present within the dominant cinema discourse. The things which make us laugh are not genuinely provocative or progressive. Being taken out of one’s edifying, mental comfort zone is not conducive to laughter, and so comedy more often than not necessarily becomes, by its incarnate subservience to human comfort, a conservative apparatus within the cultural hegemony. All of this is to preface an evaluation of the non-narrative, outrageous, cringing and stomach-churning horror-show of utter hilarity that is Jackass 3D. Having gone through my adolescence enjoying various incarnations the franchise, I can say with a degree of personal sincerity that this is its finest hour. The 3D routinely adds to the grotesquerie of proceedings and never feels “gimmicky” or unnecessary, an impressive feat in 2010, especially with that shit film about owls doing the rounds at the moment. But crucially, there is no discernible “agenda”, nor indeed a narrative framework upon which one could be attached, in Jackass 3D. It is spectacle, certainly, but it is never placid or gratifying. This is carefully administered violence and perversion, delivered to no narrative end. This is the inversion of Debord’s spectacle. This is Ryan Dunn being pummeled by an angry ram while playing the trombone. This is comedy. This is art which does a fine job at saying nothing in the most immoderate way possible. It’s also hilarious.
Words: Oisín Murphy
