jackassworld

So we were interviewing Johnny Knoxville the other day at the 3 Clubs in Hollywood (thanks again, Handsome Jack, for tending to our talent’s needs), and while paused to respond to a question about taking Earl Parker to a massage parlor back in 1998 for a Big Brother article he looked down at the carpet and remarked how it looked a little like a butt and how there was even what appeared to be a piece of poop coming out of it. At first I thought it was the alcohol talking, but sure enough: it did look like a decorative butt taking a petite dump.

(photo by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, CA; 2008)

Let me just say that I loved the time we spent filming the closer to jackass number two. I know some viewers were mystified by the orchestrated wonder of it all, but those really were the best of times—especially after all those quality months spent working and traveling together. There was a real sense of family and spirits were running fine, damn fine. And once we came to the end of the production rainbow for this song and dance number, well, it was rather bittersweet knowing that all would soon be over and done with. At times, yes, the song itself bordered on dreadfully monotonous throughout the days on set (not to mention that a few of the guys couldn’t hold a tune to save a drowning orphan’s life), but the lyrics still found a sentimental home to squat within. Johnny Knoxville made it no secret that he didn’t exactly want to stop filming then, and by god I didn’t really want the crazy train to pull into the station either. Stop down and return to reality? Fuck that. Before I bust out the box of Kleenex, though, what I really miss about the professional Hollywood set life is having everything lit so goddamn beautifully. Day to day jackass crap was obviously never about high production value (even the term “low” would be putting it politely), but hot damn, what a difference several thousand dollars in lighting and expert lighters will do—at least for me, a lowly and lazy still photographer, that is. This day with Steve-O was especially nice, what with the warm tones, scintillating blues, and gold-plated league of synchronized swimming women.

(photo by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, CA; 2006)

While dredging my hard drive yesterday for Dimitry Elyashkevich’s sweat-soaked moment of dream fulfillment, I stumbled across this other arty angle of Bam Margera and Johnny Knoxville. Doesn’t take much to pick out the veteran professional here what with his ever savvy eye for the camera no matter where it may be. Not to discredit Bam, of course, who I think was just as nervous as Dimitry about keeping his dance steps in uniform line. Well, that or maybe the horse that was about to treat him and Ryan Dunn like a pair of wishbones on Thanksgiving Day.

(photo by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, CA; 2006)