If nothing else, Novocaine did afford me one of those great epiphany moments as a film critic. While watching this feature shrug-worthy attempts at romantic dialogue, I realized what’s gone wrong with the last decade of mainstream American cinema. Everyone’s modeled their romantic dialogue after the first Deadpool movie rather than Nora Ephron, George Cukor, or Mira Nair movies. The sincerity and sensuality underpinning titles like The Philadelphia Story or Mississippi Masala are absent. Instead, there’s rampant quips and sarcasm, as if that’ll make “the mushy stuff” go down easier. The very act of sex (like, say, pegging in Deadpool) only exists for “no homo!” punchlines.
Something like Challengers is a rare gift in this landscape where connections with other human beings (even messy connections!) must exist in ceaseless self-referential dialogue. Like with musicals and countless other storytelling domains, romantic material can’t be self-conscious. You have to wear your heart on your sleeve. Constantly leaning on your characters saying things like “wow, big speech in a bar, so original!” isn’t a pathway to making the next When Harry Met Sally or Saving Face. It’s not a good sign that Novocaine had me thinking about these larger cinematic trends rather than going “oooo, that action scene was cool!” In six years, Phạm Thiên Ân, Lucrecia Martel, or Tsai Ming-liang is going to nonchalantly declare this their favorite movie of all time the same way Terrence Malick apparently loves Smokin’ Aces. For now, Novocaine is simply a slog.
Novocaine lead Nathan Caine (Jack Wuaid) works a quiet life as an assistant bank manager while navigating existence with congenital insensitivity to pain. This condition, which means he can't feel pain, makes even the little things like eating solid food a nightmare. However, directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen switch Caine's life for the better when he goes out on a date with new bank employee Sherry (Amber Midthunder). This woman pushes Nathan out of his comfort zone and makes him feel not so alone in this world. Their December romantic rendezvous is a Christmas gift like no other.
Unfortunately, the day after their fateful date, Nathan and Sherry’s bank is hit by a trio of diabolical robbers led by Simon (Ray Nicholson). As they gruesomely take all the money in the establishment, they take Sherry as a hostage so the cops won't follow them in their getaway. Now, Nathan takes it upon himself to save the only woman he's ever cared about. Though he's much more George Bailey than John Wick, Caine's going to use his imperviousness to pain to get Sherry back.
Berk and Olsen love twisty-turny stories about people not being what they appear. Their 2015 feature Body, for instance, followed three partying ladies becoming in advertent killers. 2019's Villains, meanwhile, concerned crooks burglarizing a house belonging to two severely more dangerous people. In adapting Lars Jacobson's Novocaine script, Berk and Olsen now get to take a clean-cut police character Tom Hanks could've played in the 80s and put him through endless graphic body horror. Unfortunately, the pair’s subversive tendencies largely vanish in Novocaine unless body parts get burned or disfigured.
Naturally, Jacobson’s script incorporates subplot involving two cops (Betty Gabriel and Matt Walsh) investigating Caine’s exploits. It’s like reheated leftovers of a subplot from the already underwhelming Carry-On! The various backdrops Caine navigates, meanwhile, are dimly lit environments (like a mechanic shop or one kidnapper’s booby-trapped home) with minimal distinctive flourishes. Only a kitchen setting for Caine’s first fight scene has personality. Even then, this set piece is a rehash of a superior Monkey Man skirmish. Then there’s the handful of needle drops, which (save for one briefly heard Chappell Roan ditty) always creep into modern R-rated action movies. That includes Chicago's "You're the Inspiration," returning from Deadpool, among many other films.
The well-realized practical effects work used to render Caine’s most graphic injuries (namely his severely burned hand) harken back to grotesque images in vintage Peter Jackson and Sam Raimi films. Novocaine understands the bodily injuries those features dished out, but not their entertaining chaos. Who knew where the enthrallingly warped imaginations of Meet the Feebles or Army of Darkness would take viewers next? In contrast, Novocaine's overly enamored with very predictable plot and emotional beats. Rote exposition to explain why Caine can't turn to the cops for help takes up available screentime rather than just embracing mayhem. Beliefs like misplaced conviction in Caine and Sherry's flat “romance” undercuts Novocaine's bedlam-oriented instincts.
Then there’s infuriatingly winky lines like “[they’re] big Home Alone fans, apparently” following up a fight in a booby-trapped house or “ooo, are we going on an epic car chase?” before characters engage in (you guessed it) an “epic” car chase. Jacobson’s script's insufferably committed to spoon-feeding audiences references to movies and storytelling tropes. The excessive emphasis on self-referential material suffocates Novocaine on every front. It’s impossible to invest in a romance shared between characters who’re just vessels for quips, not standalone personalities. Meanwhile, this style of speaking capsizes the action sequences. Novocaine is too busy reminding people of yesteryear pop culture to create striking entertainment right now.
These quibbles would be more forgivable if Novocaine had truly astonishing action sequences under its belt. While Jacobson’s script finds some cute ways for Caine’s imperviousness to pain to inform skirmishes, most of the punch-heavy sequences are shrug-worthy Most frustratingly, multiple imaginatively grotesque kills are undercut in their impact by poor lighting and camerawork lighting choices. These should be the moments that inspire cheers from moviegoers, not confusion over what just happened!
Even with such a limp script to work with, Quaid and Midthunder are reasonably cute in their early scenes together. The former actor is perfectly decent in exuding an everyman vibe and Quaid especially excels at emphasizing the persistent vulnerability of Caine. He may not feel pain, but that doesn’t mean the wear-and-tear of this rescue mission leaves no impact on his gait or reflexes. Quaid nicely realizes those tiny physical details, even if the rest of the film’s characters lack any similar sense of personality. The trio of baddies especially are a generic bunch of adversaries that solidify Novocaine’s forgettable aesthetic.
There’s a lot of problems contributing to Novocaine’s subpar nature, including Berk and Olsen’s struggles balancing schlocky B-movie violence and conventional storytelling standards of mainstream cinema. However, the incessantly self-conscious dialogue especially sabotages this production. Novacaine is a movie that doesn’t exude a passion for romance, but rather screenwriters scrambling to demonstrate their pop culture knowledge. This is what happens when Deadpool becomes the standard-bearer for action movie romances. Unengaging lovey-dovey dynamics drowning viewers in snark abound. None of the fight scenes are exceptional enough to compensate for this tremendously flawed core element. Berk and Olsen love movies exploring unexpected sides of people. That passion, though, wasn’t enough to prevent Novocaine’s surface-level nature and creative inspirations.