Novocaine
Directed by Dan Berk and Robert Olsen
★★★★½
Novocaine is the kind of sharp, high-concept comedy-action hybrid that could easily fall flat in the wrong hands. Fortunately, with a tightly written script and a surprisingly heartfelt core, it turns a seemingly absurd premise—an average guy who can’t feel pain going to extreme lengths to rescue his kidnapped love—into one of the most entertaining and satisfying films of the year.
What makes Novocaine work is its commitment to balancing grounded emotional stakes with wildly stylized action. It could’ve gone the route of self-aware parody or full-throttle shoot-em-up, but instead it walks a tightrope between the two, landing squarely in a space where real feeling can exist alongside slapstick gore and dark humor.
Jack Quaid anchors the film with charisma and surprising emotional range. He never plays Nate as a cartoon character; even as he's enduring knife wounds, gunshots, or being set on fire, he remains relatable. Quaid brings his full range to the role, flexing both his comic timing and increasingly impressive dramatic chops. Between Novocaine and his equally strong turn in Companion, he has somehow managed to dominate the first half of 2025 with two wildly different but equally captivating performances. In this film, he gets to be charming, goofy, vulnerable, and convincingly heroic, all without losing the character’s everyman appeal.
Amber Midthunder complements him well as Sherry, the kidnapped girlfriend who gets more agency than expected. Though her screen time is limited, her presence lingers and fuels Nate’s emotional drive. The supporting cast, including Ray Nicholson, Jacob Batalon, Betty Gabriel, and Matt Walsh, all do solid work, enhancing the film without overshadowing the leads. Everyone is playing at the right tone—just heightened enough to be funny, but grounded enough to feel human.
Importantly, the film’s pacing never lags. From its opening bank heist to the gritty warehouse finale, Novocaine is lean, smartly edited, and unrelenting in its momentum. Every action beat is tied to character, every joke lands with purpose. The humor is dark but never mean-spirited, and the script is smart enough to weave laughs through even the most grotesque moments.
Visually, the film pops without feeling over-produced. Berk and Olsen keep the camera kinetic but clear, avoiding the disorienting chaos that can plague modern action flicks. Fight scenes are inventive and gruesomely entertaining, but they never feel gratuitous—Nate’s lack of pain means the audience feels every crunch, gash, and burn more acutely.
There’s also a surprising emotional undercurrent here. Novocaine isn’t just about rescuing a girl—it’s about Nate coming to terms with the way his condition has shaped his life, his fears, and his detachment from people. That deeper layer helps the film rise above mere genre exercise.
In a year packed with action films trying to stand out, Novocaine manages to carve out its own identity with style, humor, and a bruised, beating heart. It’s funny, fast, and emotionally resonant—a rare combination in today’s cinematic landscape.
