Novocaine Twists The Revenge Thriller To Its Absolute Limit
Nathan Caine may not feel pain — but the Novocaine is still a wincing watch.
It’s rare to see Jack Quaid, genre everyman and resident boy next door, not covered in blood to some degree. His most notable roles — think Amazon’s The Boys or horror reboot Scream — practically baptize him in it. It’s a conceit that won’t get old so long as Quaid is game, but his latest offering, Novocaine, pushes that theory way beyond its comfort zone.
A rom-com, ‘80s-inspired actioner, and an exploration in body horror all rolled into one, Novocaine essentially turns Quaid into a walking, talking punching bag. Its premise draws heavily from a real-life neurological disorder, CIPA (Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis), and adapts it into a superpower of sorts. Thanks to his unique condition, Quaid’s Nathan Caine simply can’t feel pain. That gives him a surprising edge over action stars like John Wick, who don’t always get to walk away from a beating. Novocaine aims to introduce a hero who technically has no limits, and it succeeds in cementing Quaid as an unconventional action star. Whether its story is strong enough to go as far as he does is another issue entirely.
CIPA is not the kind of condition anyone should take lightly, and Novocaine’s first act takes its time exploring the brutal realities of the disorder. Nate’s life expectancy wasn’t meant to exceed 25: he spent the bulk of his childhood in and out of emergency rooms thanks to one freak emergency after the next, and he’s essentially baby-proofed his adult life to optimize his survival. His apartment boasts more tennis balls than actual pieces of furniture, every sharp corner padded to avoid impalement. He’s installed guard rails on his shower faucet to prevent accidental third-degree burns, and he implements a strict liquid-only diet, lest he bite his tongue off while trying to chew a hearty meal.
Nate’s emotional life is similarly safeguarded. Letting anyone get close enough to hurt him, much less learn about his disorder, is totally out of the question. He’s got one friend in Roscoe (Jacob Batalan), and their relationship is defined by the online RPG they play together. As the assistant manager of a local credit union, Nate can also count on small talk with regular customers, like the recently widowed Earl (Lou Beatty Jr.), to help the time pass. And then there’s Sherry (Amber Midthunder), the new bank teller he makes goo-goo eyes at from afar. Each arms-length interaction — along with an opening sequence set to R.E.M’s “Everybody Hurts” — affirms just how desperate Nate is for true human connection. Directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen explore their hero’s plight with abject sincerity, while Quaid’s inherent charm buoys Nate’s small life with endearing humor.
Sparks fly in Novocaine’s first act, but the rest of the film drops the ball.
Before we can get too used to his status quo, Sherry fortunately takes some initiative and asks Nate out for an impromptu lunch. The pair click instantly; lunch turns into another, official date at a bar, and ultimately culminates in a charged one-night stand at Nate’s place. When he wakes up the next morning, he may very well be in love. Unfortunately, he never gets the chance to tell Sherry how he feels. Just as he heads into work, the bank is attacked by a trio of robbers (each dressed as Santa — Novocaine is a Christmas movie, kind of). Naturally, they take Sherry as a hostage and decimate the police squad sent to stop them, leaving no one but Nate to give chase. He’s totally unqualified to stop a band of unhinged criminals, but as Sherry says early in the film, his condition can be a weapon if he’s creative (and reckless) enough to use it. So off he goes, armed with nothing but his improbable pain tolerance, his impressive first aid knowledge, and his razor-sharp wits.
Novocaine’s premise, while thin, is pretty clever in its early moments. Nate’s first true fight, staged in the back of a restaurant, also starts the action with a bang. But things escalate a bit too quickly, with Nate essentially deep-frying his hand to win the bout. The action sequences that follow only double down on cartoonish injuries: Nate takes arrows, burns, bullets, and even tattoos with a goofy smile and a pre-loaded one-liner. Quaid is admittedly in his element, and his easy performance keeps our story from crossing into a point of no return. But there are also limits to his affability, especially when juxtaposed with increasingly harrowing body horror. The concept of wrecking your body for the girl of your dreams is solid enough, and it’s gratifying to see the mild-mannered Nate unleashed for what may be the first time. But a hero with no pain threshold does need some restraint elsewhere, especially in an adventure that’s violent almost in excess.
The cast of Novocaine give their all, but the story could have used a few guardrails.
In its efforts to outdo the last action set piece, Novocaine loses sight of the stakes that made its first half so charming. The addition of stock subplots and characters — like the two cops (played by Betty Gabriel and Matt Walsh, respectively) who believe Nate is in on the heist, or the prime antagonist (Ray Nicholson, giving a gonzo performance) standing between Nate and Sherry’s reunion — shroud a promising new pitch in relics of a bygone era. Novocaine’s third act especially feels like an amalgam of better, if schlockier, action films, and its supporting characters suffer the most.
While an initial twist helps elevate Sherry beyond a traditional damsel role, she’s not given many chances to flesh out her character beyond that. Batalon, too, is stuck playing a snarkier version of his “guy in the chair” from Marvel’s Spider-Man trilogy. Granted, no one’s tuning into something like Novocaine for deep, nuanced performances. It’s the kind of B-movie popcorn flick best experienced with a crowd, and gore hounds may find a lot to like in this premise. But given its initial attempts to carve out a new niche within the genre, its last-minute backslide does add insult to injury.
