The Media Tourist

In “Novocaine,” Jack Quaid dives into danger as a man with no feelings…sort of

Novocaine
Starring Jack Quaid & Amber Midthunder
Directed by Dan Berk & Robert Olsen
Rated R

In theaters Friday, March 14

When his office crush gets abducted, a young bank assistant manager sets out to rescue her. That sounds like it could be the setup for any number of flicks, but this gonzo action comedy hinges on the “ordinary” hero’s rare genetic disorder, which prevents him from feeling pain.

We learn that Nathan Caine (Jack Quaid, from TV’s The Boys) grew up with the nickname of Novocaine, given to him by bullying schoolmates who delighted in making him their recess punching bag; they enjoyed seeing him take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. (P.S., Nathan’s condition is a real-world thing, CIP, or congenital insensitivity to pain, which affects a spectrum of bodily sensitivities.)  On a tentative first date at a diner, he tells Sherry (Amber Midthunder) that he dares not ingest solid food (he might chew up his tongue and not know it), and his wristwatch timer is reminding him to take a bathroom break (because he doesn’t get a natural “signal” that his bladder needs emptying).

But when the bank gets robbed and Sherry gets taken as a hostage, Nathan isn’t thinking about pee breaks as he plunges into a gauntlet of pain-free heroics, encountering sneering bad guys, booby-trapped lairs, flying bullets and body-slamming brawls. I must give the movie credit for finding, ahem, creative ways to illustrate just how impervious Nathan is to pain. He gets walloped in a wide variety of ways, like the coyote in a real-life Road Runner cartoon. He breaks his thumb to slip out of handcuffs and turns a broken bone—his own protruding tibia—into a lethal weapon. He has his fingernails pulled out with pliers, gets plugged with an arrow from a crossbow, almost crushed under a garage car lift, impaled with a medieval mace and calmly digs out a bullet from his arm.  

But here’s the thing. Nathan is no John Wick, no James Bond or Deadpool. He can be grievously injured, or even killed—he just doesn’t “feel” it, which puts him in even more peril. People with CIP won’t know spilled coffee can scald their hand, because they don’t get the “Ouch! That hurts!” message. That sets up the subplot, about how Nathan might not register physical discomfort, but he’s not immune from emotional distress. (The movie opens with REM’s “Everybody Hurts.”) Quaid, the son of actors Dennis Quaid and Meg Ryan, has an amiable everyman quality that squares with Nathan as an average guy, certainly no superhero, who removes the “dis” from his “disability” and dives right into danger.

And people do get killed. The movie’s rampaging dark humor doesn’t really jibe with all the blood and body goop, or when people expire via bullets or beatings.

Amber Midthunder, who has appeared in FX’s Legion and starred in The CW’s sci-fi drama Roswell, New Mexico, brings a tantalizing dash of ambiguity and vulnerability to her role as the “love interest,” noting that we’re all scarred by something, hiding a part of ourselves until someone lets us know it’s OK to show it. Matt Walsh, from TV’s Veep, gets in a few droll quips as a sports-obsessed cop.

But mainly, Novocaine wants to show Nathan enduring an avalanche of mayhem and make audiences squeal with perverse glee seeing him rebound from every body-abusing, bone-breaking, skin-scaring whack, crunch, burn, blast and kaboom. You may think it’s all giddy popcorn fun, but for me, I didn’t particularly enjoy being turned into a movie surrogate for those schoolyard bullies, who kicked Nathan’s ass repeatedly, every day, because they knew, hey, he can’t feel it.

At least, in The Road Runner, when the coyote gets flattened with an anvil to the head or smushed by a bolder, well, it’s only a cartoon—with no squishy viscera or protruding bones.

—Neil Pond