MTV's 'Jackass' filled with 'idiots'

NEW YORK — Yes: Moments of MTV's "Jackass'' are funny.

No: Not even MTV with its sway over the acne set should be held accountable when a teen-ager, taking a cue from the show's high jinks, up and sets himself on fire.

Yes: You're a natural to join the growing "Jackass'' flock if the sight or mention of fecal matter cracks you up.

No: Despite brazen hints to the contrary, "Jackass'' doesn't spell the end of civilization. (On the other hand, what's the deal with the brawny guy in a thong who, underwater, humps a great white shark?)

Airing Sunday, "Jackass'' is a ragged collection of stunts, pranks and gross-out exhibitionism, all shot in the zero-budget, hand-held style of public access video.

It is populated by creator-host Johnny Knoxville and (in MTV's words) "a bumbling cast of idiots'' whose antics meet three rigid standards: 1. Neither taste nor brain power is in evidence. 2. No skill is required. 3. No skill is permitted.

A "Jackass'' group challenge: Who can eat 50 hard-boiled eggs? (Any you hurl still count toward your total, but try to hit your bucket.)

Now here is Johnny Knoxville getting blasted by a skunk: "Ayyyy! He did it again!''

Or spritzed with pepper spray, yelping in wonder-struck agony, "I feel like my eyes have gonorrhea!''

And let's not forget the time he put on a fire-resistant suit hung with steaks, then laid himself across a makeshift barbecue grill. (That's the stunt blamed for the second- and third-degree burns of a 13-year-old Connecticut boy who decided to try something similar. But he was not wearing a fire-resistant suit.)

Excrement and other bodily waste are always apropos on "Jackass.'' A classic caper: Our hero closets himself in a brimming porta-john, which is then hoisted and flipped over. Poop Cocktail — shaken, not stirred.

The "Poo Hug'' calls for soliciting street-corner embraces after smearing oneself with what looks to be animal dung. ("Hi, I'm giving out free hugs today!'') "Jackass'' pulls its punch, though, by using smeared-on refried beans.

It cops out again on another hidden-camera gambit with truly subversive possibilities. After being served in a Chinese restaurant, Johnny produces several pieces of doggy doo he sneaked in, and plops them on his plate.

"Excuse me, sir,'' he alerts his puzzled waiter. "I ordered the vegetarian dish and there's some sort of sausage in it.''

Such a dirty trick would have had real impact if it weren't targeting a rundown noodle shop on the wrong side of town, but instead, say, a snobbish, pricey French bistro just begging to be taken down a few notches.

But, wait! This isn't guerrilla theater.

For that matter, "Jackass'' isn't even what it pretends to be: an aimless self-indulgence. Nor is Knoxville, whose real name is P.J. Clapp, a loutish self-abuser with a camcorder and too much free time.

No, according to Rolling Stone, whose cover he recently graced, Clapp is a budding movie star with a fee already in the million-dollar range. As Johnny Knoxville on "Jackass,'' he, along with MTV (which introduced the series in October), has swiftly turned you-know-what into Shinola.

No wonder. Clapp's "Jackass'' persona is in perfect harmony with the MTV ideal: the mook.

That's the finding of media analyst Douglas Rushkoff, who explores mook culture on "The Merchants of Cool,'' a "Frontline'' documentary airing on PBS Tuesday night.

One dictionary defines "mook'' as "an insignificant or contemptible person.'' (What about "jackass''?) But in advertisers' eyes, the mook is the dream young male consumer. He is a boorish, screw-you pacesetter for cravings.

"He is a creation designed to capitalize on the testosterone-driven madness of adolescents,'' Rushkoff says in the documentary. "He grabs them below the belt and then reaches for their wallets.''

At the moment, the mook is richly represented in the media, especially across MTV and its fellow Viacom-owned outlets: The mook is Tom Green of "The Tom Green Show,'' the hosts of Comedy Central's "The Man Show,'' and, unsurpassed as the Great White Mook, Infinity Broadcasting's Howard Stern.

The mook, says Rushkoff, is "perhaps Viacom's most bankable creation.'' And however risky or slipshod the mook's "Jackass'' showcase may seem, never fear — it's safely integrated into MTV's seamless marketing crusade.

Just more of the same, "Jackass'' spins its glib appeal to "you or your dumb little buddies'' not to try "the dangerous crap in this show.'' Good advice. On MTV, the danger is accepting what you see.

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