Novocaine
It’s a rare and welcome thing to walk out of a theater feeling genuinely entertained again. Novocaine, directed by Dan Berk and Robert Olsen, serves as a sharp, unpretentious showcase for ever-growing Hollywood darling Jack Quaid and delivers exactly what it promises: light, clever without trying too hard, and, most importantly, gory and violent fun. The setup is refreshingly straightforward: Nathan, a man with a rare medical disorder that renders him unable to feel pain, falls hard for a woman. When she’s kidnapped, he barrels headfirst into the kind of messy, bone-crunching rescue mission you root for, even as you wince. It’s pulpy, sure — but the good kind of pulp, the kind that plants a smile on your face and reminds you why you love movies in the first place.
Novocaine is sharply written, and that’s why it works. It isn’t bogged down with exposition or trying to prove it’s smarter than it is. It takes a simple concept, wraps it up with enough heart and humor to carry you through the gratuitous action sequences, and never overstays its welcome. The core gag is razor-thin: Nathan can’t feel pain. That a nearly two-hour movie manages to serve up this joke repeatedly without wearing it out is a triumph in itself.
The characters are what keep it all from collapsing into a blood-soaked house of cards — the film’s true secret weapon. The first act wisely holds back on gore, giving you time to settle into the relationships and the offbeat, deadpan tone Novocaine is aiming for. It earns the chaos that follows. If the comedy doesn’t land, the whole thing falls apart. Luckily, the writing holds strong, buoyed by energetic performances and absurd situations that keep the story moving at a brisk, playful pace. Special mention goes to Matt Walsh, who shines as a worn-out cop — a trope just as exhausted as his character, yet he still makes it work. A perfectly timed jab about San Diego falling apart after the Chargers left gives the film (and its setting) an extra punch of personality.
That said, I am on the fence about Ray Nicholson — son of Jack… Nicholson, not Quaid. I haven’t seen Smile 2, so this is my first time watching him in action. He’s making bold choices and clearly giving it his all, but as the film’s lead villain, he’s the weakest link. He hits the right notes in theory, but by the fifth set piece of Jack Quaid getting beaten to a pulp, unfazed, the movie’s runtime starts to show — and that’s where Nicholson’s performance starts to sag. To be fair, this feels more like a script issue than an acting one, but he doesn’t quite rescue it either.
And before you think I’m just here to bash Ray for being a nepo-baby — let’s be clear: I am all in for Jack Quaid. I didn’t watch The Boys, either. But he’s flat-out impressive here. He’s the heart and soul of this movie, with a likable, effortless magnetism that holds everything together. Still, I’ll admit my Jack Quaid bias runs deep. Companion is still my front-runner for favorite film of the year so far — but a lot of my head start with Jack comes from his mom, Meg Ryan, and the Nora Ephron classics that I hold dearly. When I see Jack Quaid, I immediately think, Man, I love Sleepless in Seattle, and, I really should do my yearly rewatch of When Harry Met Sally. What can I say? I’m not immune to the charms of nepo-babies.
The transition from the climax into the heartfelt conclusion is the only time the film dragged for me — and even then, it’s still remarkably tight. It’s a testament to the care and character work baked into the script. By the end, the scattered pieces of drama culminate in a surprisingly cohesive, satisfying picture. Everything you rooted for pays off, and you’re left with a wonderfully gory, genuinely fun time.