I’m sure I’m not the only one that emerged from the recent award cycle feeling a bit numb, especially as I looked toward a summer of blockbusters comprised of sequels, requels, remakes, and reboots.   The precious months (make that weeks) between film seasons are when I crave films unconcerned about prestige or deep themes.   These are the movies that aren’t crossing their fingers to be the kickoff to a new franchise or taking the genre in a new direction.   All they want is for the audience to have a good time, eat their popcorn, indulge in their candy of choice, go home, and tell everyone to buy a ticket and have the same experience.

Novocaine is proudly that movie.  A lean, (very) mean action comedy that delights in delivering a high-concept, energetic, blood-splattered experience that feels like a Crank-style fever dream infused with the no-nonsense attitude of ’90s video store classics.   Embracing its absurdity with gleeful abandon in a similar fashion to breathless outings like Nick of Time and Run Lola Run by never letting the viewer utilize their RunPee app; it provides a two-hour adrenaline rush that prioritizes fun over logic at every bone-crushing turn.   If you’re squeamish, look away.  But if you’re here to watch Jack Quaid get battered, bruised, and obliterated while refusing to stay down because he literally can’t feel pain, then welcome to this wild party.

Nathan Caine (Quaid, Companion) leads a meticulously careful existence as a mild-mannered assistant bank manager with a unique medical condition—he cannot feel pain.  This inability forces Nathan into extreme caution to avoid injuring himself unwittingly.  He sustains himself on a liquid diet (so he doesn’t accidentally bite his tongue off), any sharp corner at home or in the office is carefully padded, and his watch is set to go off to remind himself to hit the bathroom (he’s unable to feel when his bladder is full).   The condition is, surprisingly, factual, though the filmmakers take liberties with the extreme nature of it. 

Caine harbors a crush on co-worker Sherry (Amber Midthunder, Prey) but he’s too shy to act on it.   His pining seems destined for unnoticed longing glances until she invites him to lunch after causing an accidental coffee scalding in the breakroom.  Their meet-cute meal evolves into a life-changing romantic day, leaving Nathan floating on cloud nine directly into a night to remember.  His euphoria shatters the next morning when bank robbers dressed in Santa suits storm the bank and take Sherry with them as a hostage.  With nothing left to lose, Nathan throws himself into a brutal rescue mission, regardless of the physical toll on himself or anyone blocking his path, discovering along the way that his condition isn’t just a liability—it’s a weapon.

What follows is a ludicrously violent thrill ride of an action comedy that treats logic as optional and frenzied chaos as mandatory.  The well-staged action sequences are relentless, reveling in kinetic cartoonish excess.  Fingers are snapped, bones protrude where they shouldn’t, and bodies (and body parts) are burned, deep-fried, and impaled with reckless abandon.  And yet, for all its gory spectacle, Novocaine never wallows in its brutality.  It operates with an almost Looney Tunes level of energy—like a John Wick film directed by Bugs Bunny with stunt work by Yosemite Sam.   Nathan’s grisly fights play out like slapstick comedy with life-or-death stakes, and Quaid sells every artistic-styled second of it with wide-eyed, almost giddy reactions to his own resilience.  The humor in Lars Jacobson’s screenplay is dry, dark, and always perfectly balanced with the film’s breakneck pace.

Quaid is the movie’s greatest asset.  Known for playing characters who are more everyman than action hero, he’s an ideal choice for a guy with no business being in an uber-violent revenge story but somehow thrives in it anyway.    His gradual transformation is hilarious to watch—he never becomes an unstoppable badass and still makes awkwardly bad decisions, but he gets just competent enough to be dangerous.  His chemistry with Midthunder works well enough to make you buy into Nathan’s sudden burst of reckless heroism.  However, their relationship primarily serves as a plot device to get things rolling, and I think the filmmakers underutilize Midthunder for most of the movie.

Continuing to demonstrate scene-stealing charm, Jacob Batalon (Lift) is a welcome addition around the midpoint as Nathan’s online gaming buddy-turned-reluctant sidekick, raising questions about why studios haven’t yet built a vehicle around his considerable charisma.   Similar questions apply to the ever-consistent Betty Gabriel (It Lives Inside), featured in Novocaine as a police officer investigating the robbery and Nathan’s increasingly bizarre crime spree.  Only Ray Nicholson (Borderline), as over-the-top villain Simon, comes across as a solo artist among a finely tuned ensemble.   His snarling, knife-wielding manic refuses to die despite incurring injuries that had taken down others in the film.   How much you embrace the character will depend on how much irritation you can handle.

Directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen (Significant Other) ensure there’s never a dull moment, employing cinematographer Jacques Jouffret (Songbird) to capture the chaos with frenetic energy.   For a movie this go-for-broke, there are missed opportunities to get more creative with the camera work, stylized framing and inventive angles that would complement the films take no prisoners sensibilities.   The fight choreography makes clever use of Nathan’s condition, leading to wildly innovative combat sequences where he takes an insane amount of damage but keeps going. 

What I found most interesting was the way Novocaine maintained its clear focus throughout.   Nathan shows little concern for the huge sum of money stolen from the bank or obtaining broader justice for the thieves…he just wants the girl he went on one date with back.  There’s no Robin Hood showboating or dreams of cleaning up the city with his “superpower.”  His motivations are clear, and unlike the majority of everyman-turned-hero stories, having a one-track mind free from diversions keeps the narrative lean and propulsive.

Novocaine isn’t aiming for nuance (one listen to Lorne Balfe and Andrew Kawczynski’s pulsing score makes that clear), but that’s what makes it work so well.   It’s nice to see Quaid following in the beat-the-clock footsteps of his father, who played a similar game of “hunt ’em down” in the 1988 remake of D.O.A.  but branching out to further establish himself as a next-gen star who can open a picture.   Its violence may prove excessive for some, but those with strong stomachs will find a potent dose of nostalgic thrills with modern production values.   You may feel exhausted after, but what a rush!