I left “Jackass: Best and Last” with a headache. 

Part of it was from laughing harder than I have in a movie theater in years. The other part was from trying to figure out why I’d spent the last 90 minutes crying over a group of men whose careers were built on tasers, bull stunts and getting hit in the groin. 

I’ve never had a good explanation for why “Jackass” means so much to me. I know what it looks like from the outside, as people love reducing “Jackass” to its lowest common denominators of being loud, crude and even juvenile at times. It’s a franchise that somehow turned concussions into a cultural phenomenon. By all accounts, it shouldn’t be one of things I return to when I need comfort. 

But it is. I think that’s because beneath all the bruises, “Jackass” has always been about people who genuinely enjoyed being around each other. Stunts start with someone saying, ‘This is a terrible idea,’ and ends with everyone laughing anyway. 

While watching “Jackass: Best and Last,” I realized I wasn’t laughing because the stunts or pranks were bigger, I was laughing because the cast still was.

Johnny Knoxville is still the impossible, and at times manic, ringleader. Steve-O still throws himself into things without hesitation. Chris Pontius still has the same effortless ability to make everyone else break character. Jason ‘Wee Man’ Acuña, Preston Lacy, Dave England and Ehren McGhehey all slip back into a rhythm that can’t be manufactured. You can’t fake decades of friendship and “Jackass” doesn’t try to. 

The guys are older now, but when they’re together they’re still the same group of friends who thought making each other laugh was worth almost anything. 

“Jackass: Best and Last” understands that legacy better than any previous project. It isn’t interested in pretending they’re still 25. Instead, it celebrates everything they’ve built together. The new stunts are some of the funniest the franchise has produced. I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes before realizing I had them for a completely different reason. 

The archival footage is placed with care, never feeling like it’s forced for nostalgia. Every clip reminds you not just how outrageous the cast was, but how much fun they were having. 

I’ve watched Knoxville get trampled by bulls without flinching. Yet, watching him get emotional in an interview was somehow harder. There are moments where he pauses, laughs to keep himself from crying and then tries again. Knoxville’s not mourning “Jackass,” he’s looking back at 25 years with people he loves and trying to explain what that means.

At times, emotions don’t fit neatly into words. By the time he found them, I was already crying. 

Some of the loudest laughs in “Jackass: Best and Last” come from Ryan Dunn. That’s what I loved most about the way the film remembers him. It doesn’t reduce him to tragedy. The film remembers Dunn through laughter instead of loss. The footage never feels like a memorial assembled out of obligation. It feels like the way friends tell stories about someone who should still be there. 

Growing up in the punk scene only made me love the franchise more. The Ramones and the Misfits were already some of my favorite bands, so hearing their songs and seeing Black Flag’s Henry Rollins show up in the first “Jackass” was like an unexpected wink that helped attach me to the franchise. 

The cast never looked like movie stars either. Aside from Knoxville, obviously. They looked like people I’d actually met — loud, scrappy and rough around the edges. They reminded me of people I grew up loving long before I understood why I was drawn to them. 

I realized I wasn’t saying goodbye to a franchise while watching “Jackass: Best and Last.” I was watching a group of friends look back at 25 years of choosing each other. How many people get that? How many people get to make something with their friends, spend decades laughing together, survive fame, addiction, public mistakes and still find their way back to one another? 

That’s what stayed with me long after the credits ended. Not the stunts, pranks or even the laughs. Just the rare privilege of watching friendship last.