Nerdly » ‘Novocaine’ Review

25th Mar2025

‘Novocaine’ Review

by Kevin Haldon

Stars: Jack Quaid, Amber Midthunder, Ray Nicholson, Matt Walsh, Jacob Batalon | Written by Lars Jacobson | Directed by Dan Berk, Robert Olsen

Alright folks, buckle up because I’m about to take you on a wild, bloody, and absurdly hilarious ride through Novocaine. A movie that’s equal parts action flick, rom-com, and Looney Tunes cartoon with a body count. This is the kind of film where you laugh until you wince, wince until you laugh, and then realize you’re probably a little messed up for enjoying it so much. Directed by Dan Berk and Robert Olsen, and starring the perpetually charming Jack Quaid, Novocaine is what happens when you give a guy who can’t feel pain a reason to care and a kitchen full of sharp objects. Let’s dive in.

Our hero, Nathan “Nate” Caine (Quaid), is a bank assistant manager with a condition called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP) which sounds like a superpower until you realize it’s more like a curse with a side of awkwardness. Nate’s life is a carefully curated bubble of liquid diets (to avoid chomping his own tongue off), tennis balls on sharp corners (because who needs a concussion they can’t feel?), and a bathroom timer that’s more punctual than a German train. He’s less Wolverine and more “guy who’d apologize to the wall he just walked into.” That is, until Sherry (Amber Midthunder), a bank teller with a smile that could melt a vault, strolls into his life and convinces him to live a little, like maybe try eating a burger without turning it into a horror movie.

Then, because this is an action-comedy and not a Hallmark Christmas movie starring Lacey Chabert, the bank gets robbed by three Santas (oh by the way it’s a Christmas movie, sort of, well in the Shane Black sense of Christmas movies) who kidnap Sherry, leaving Nate to channel his inner action hero. What follows is a gore-soaked, laugh-out-loud odyssey as Nate turns his inability to feel pain into a weapon or at least a really durable punching bag.

Jack Quaid is the beating, bleeding heart of Novocaine, and I mean that literally. By the end, he’s got more bruises than a peach in a tumble dryer. Fresh off The Boys and Companion, Quaid brings his signature blend of awkward charm and boy-next-door energy to Nate, making him the kind of hero you root for even as you’re yelling, “just call the cops!” His comedic timing is sharper than the knife that gets plunged into his hand (spoiler: it’s not the worst thing that happens to him), and his ability to sell both “shrill panic” and “misguided confidence” is what keeps this one-joke premise from flatlining.

There’s a scene where Nate has to fake pain while a bad guy rips his fingernails off—yes, you read that right—and Quaid’s over-the-top “OW, OH NO, THAT HURTS SO BAD” acting is so hilariously bad it’s good. It’s like watching a toddler pretend to cry after “falling” for the third time in a row. Pair that with his chemistry with Midthunder, who’s no damsel, by the way, and you’ve got a duo that makes you believe in love, or at least in the power of shared trauma, which by the way was a sub-plot I didn’t see coming but added a well-needed layer to the flick.

We need to talk about Ray Nicholson. This kid has quietly been on the scene and absolutely smashing it from roles in Promising Young Woman and Smile 2 to his superb star turn in Borderline. I think it’s safe to say we have an absolute breakout star in the making. He is always a joy to watch and steals pretty much every scene he is part of. I think this kid is someone to keep an eye on and again if you didn’t see Borderline seek it out now.

If you thought Home Alone had some brutal traps, Novocaine says, “Hold my beer and watch this anvil drop on a guy’s head.” The action sequences are a deranged mix of slapstick and splatter, like if the Three Stooges had a budget and a gore consultant. Nate doesn’t so much fight as survive. He is stabbed, bludgeoned, burned, and at one point takes a spiked mace to the shoulder like it’s a mosquito bite. The camera doesn’t shy away from the carnage either; you’ll see blisters bubbling, bones snapping, and enough blood to make a vampire blush. It’s grotesque, it’s gratuitous, and it’s so over-the-top you can’t help but cackle.

One standout brawl in a restaurant kitchen has Nate slipping around in hot oil like a cartoon character, only to turn the fryer into a weapon that leaves his opponent looking like Mel Gibson in Man Without a Face (that’s a deep cut). Then the scene involving a tattoo parlour interrogation that goes so wrong it’s right, with Nate’s “I’m fine” demeanour clashing hilariously with the guy who’s definitely not fine after meeting a crossbow. It’s pure, unchecked mayhem, and directors Berk and Olsen lean into it with the glee of kids smashing action figures together.

The script, penned by Lars Jacobson, is packed with zingers that land more often than they miss. There’s a sharp-witted cop (Matt Walsh) who drops lines like “You’re dumber than a bag of hammers” with deadpan perfection, and Nate’s gamer buddy Roscoe (Jacob Batalon) who talks a big game online but shows up IRL like a discount Ned Leeds. Batalon’s stuck in sidekick purgatory post-Spider-Man, but he milks it for every laugh, especially when he’s whining about how this rescue mission is not like Call of Duty.

The humour isn’t just in the dialogue—it’s in the absurdity of Nate’s condition. He yelps fakely while being tortured, shrugs off a compound fracture like it’s a paper cut, and at one point stares at a gaping wound with the confusion of a guy who just spilt ketchup on his shirt. It’s dark, it’s dumb, it’s delightful and I am so fucking there for all of it.

Okay, it’s not all perfect. The romance between Nate and Sherry, while cute, feels like it’s running on fumes by the third act, less “True Romance” and more “True Concussion.” The plot’s as straight as a railroad track, with no real twists after the initial heist setup. Some of the action loses steam when it’s not being creative and while the gore’s fun, it occasionally crosses into “okay, I get it, he’s invincible”.

Novocaine isn’t reinventing the wheel or the mace, or the crossbow but it’s a shot of adrenaline straight to the funny bone. It’s a movie that knows exactly what it is: a ridiculous, violent romp with a heart just big enough to keep you invested. Jack Quaid proves he’s leading-man material, Amber Midthunder reminds us how good she can be, and the whole thing feels like a love letter to the days when action comedies didn’t need a shared universe to be fun. Is it deep? Nope. But is it a blast? Hell yes.