Entertainment
Review: An accidental hero feels no pain in 'Novocaine,' a brutal yet weightless action-comedy
The unwieldy action rom-com “Novocaine” makes a convincing argument that its lead, Jack Quaid, can do it all: woo the girl, shoot the goon and tickle the audience. The movie itself has a harder time, screwing its three genres together so awkwardly that it tends to limp. Directed by Dan Berk and Robert Olsen from a script by Lars Jacobson, it’s about a San Diego assistant bank manager named Nathan Cane (Quaid) with congenital insensitivity to pain — a rare and real condition in which a person can’t feel cuts, burns, bruises and broken bones. All of the above injuries (and more) happen to Nathan after his workplace crush Sherry (Amber Midthunder) gets kidnapped by bandits. He’s no ass-kicking gym rat; he’s simply willing to take any punishment to get her back.
How seriously should we take this premise? Very, according to the grisly blood splatters, the ham-fisted dramatic score and the panic in Midthunder’s eyes. Also, not seriously at all, gauging from the comic relief that’s haphazardly bolted onto the plot, such as a cop played by Matt Walsh who gripes that San Diego’s gone to seed ever since “the Chargers and the Clippers betrayed us.”
Of the torment Quaid endures, his hardest challenge is straddling the tone. He’s charmingly chipper while being shredded to machaca. “It’s fine!” he insists, as a knife plunges through his hand. “Good to go!” he says, carving a bullet out of his arm with a box cutter. Our vicarious shudders come only from the sound design, which gives a horrific squelch to the shock of a medieval mace slamming into Nathan’s back. (“Why?” Nathan sighs with exasperation, as though he’s merely gotten stuck at a red light.)
The slapstick works, particularly when Quaid does a Chaplin-esque shuffle with an arrow sticking out of his thigh. But what works better is the opening act, a kooky but sincere indie romance that only has a few scenes to convince us that Nathan’s chemistry with Sherry is worth putting himself through a meat grinder. Nathan looks like a typical sad sack — drab apartment, droopy corporate wear, anxious forehead crinkle — with the twist that he’s been raised to be terrified of everything, from scalding himself in the shower to accidentally chewing off his own tongue. (Production designer Kara Lindstrom establishes a life story of injuries by sticking tennis balls onto every sharp corner of his furniture.) At work, this isolated oddball shows empathy to a cash-strapped widower (Lou Beatty Jr.), proof that he at least feels emotional pain. Still, he’s caught completely off-guard when the office cutie scalds him with coffee (no biggie) and then apologetically asks him to lunch (yikes).
Sherry comes on so strong, we want her checked for Hollywood’s chronic disease: manic pixie dreamgirl syndrome. To the script’s credit and Midthunder’s convincing zeal, Sherry has her own motives for making it work, including a need to stick up for the weak. And we have a question we’re hoping she can answer: If Nathan can’t feel pain, how can he feel pleasure? When Sherry prods him to take his first bite of solid food, Quaid does for the cherry pie what his real-life mother Meg Ryan once did for the pastrami sandwich. His eyes flutter in ecstasy. He’s in love.
Even knowing that this ridiculously charming setup will take a sharp veer into blood and guts, the dramatic tonal change still hits us like a kick to the head. Once a trio of robbers (Ray Nicholson, Conrad Kemp and Evan Hengst) barges into Nathan and Sherry’s bank and quickly and coldly murders four people, the movie doesn’t have any more swoon-worthy moments in it other than Nathan defibrillating himself so that he can keep on going. Midthunder’s character gets especially robbed. She may as well be John Wick’s puppy.
Co-directors Berk and Olsen spend the rest of the film trying to make a spiritual sequel to Jason Statham’s “Crank,” the ultimate whackadoo action flick about an assassin who pumps himself up to stay alive (bested only by its sequel, “Crank 2: High Voltage”).
Quaid doesn’t have Statham’s biceps, but for my money, he doesn’t need them. He has the perfect look for this movie. Lean and rumpled in unusual places, he’s half-twerp, half-man. Smartly, the stunt choreography doesn’t position its protagonist as a super fighter. The gasps come not from his skills, but from what he’s willing to do to win: grind glass into his fists, grab a scorching cast-iron skillet without mitts, plunge his right hand into a deep fryer until it blisters like a samosa. There’s an extended squeamish groan when, having seized and fired a boiling gun, it doesn’t occur to him to drop it. Visually, the violence is shot in sickening close-ups. Cartoonish horseplay would have gotten a hardier laugh.
The camera hurls itself into the high jinks, slamming itself back and forth at the same cadence as Nathan’s concussions. But it’s more fun watching him take abuse than dole it out. When this sweetheart goes on the attack, the effect is like watching a bunny with rabies. You’re just thinking someone should take the poor dear to the doctor. (Meanwhile, the directors mistakenly think we’ll enjoy it more in slow-motion.) Even in the moments designed for cheers, like when Nathan destroys a bad guy’s swastika tattoo, you don’t really want that agony on his conscience.
Which is why the best fight scene involves psychological combat. A tied-up Nathan tricks his executioner into giving him extra time to figure out an escape by going full Br’er Rabbit, pretend-begging the killer to get his torture over with fast. “Not the pliers — please, not the pliers,” he pleads. Let me try that myself. Don’t put Quaid in a romantic comedy — please, not a proper romantic comedy.
‘Novocaine’
Rated: R, for strong bloody violence, grisly images, and language throughout
Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes
Playing: In wide release Friday, March 14
Movie Reviews
‘Evil Dead Burn’ Movie Review – Spotlight Report
Sam Raimi‘s Evil Dead films and TV series are a fine example of creativity within constraints, playfulness, self-awareness and outright slapstick comedy. The Evil Dead series after Raimi is very, very different. Starting with 2013’s Evil Dead by Fede Álvarez, followed by Evil Dead Rise by Lee Cronin, the new series takes itself more seriously and emphasises pure horror, violence and gore. Some have considered this praiseworthy as it avoids being a mere retread of the old films, but the reception has been mixed.
In Sébastien Vanicek’s Evil Dead Burn, Alice (Souheila Yacoub) loses her abusive husband (George Pullar) to a motor accident. When she goes home to stay with his family, the consequences of the work of their dead grandfather researching the Necronomicon and the Deadites manifest in terrible ways. One by one, the family are turned into the Evil Dead.
Horror is a genre that depends on you relating to the protagonists so you care what happens to them. In the case of Evil Dead Burn, Yacoub does a decent job with the character she’s given, but the gonzo horror elements manifest so early in the film that she may as well be collateral damage in the onslaught, especially as the film’s early point of view is that of her brother-in-law (Hunter Doohan).
Fans of gory violence will get their money’s worth here, but there’s not a lot going on besides that. The film is a descent into madness and carnage that is so resolutely unpleasant that, after some of the early kills, it becomes numbing. It’s hard to gather what the tone is supposed to be, with lots of callbacks to the early films’ style by setting up inevitable kills with Chekhov’s weed trimmer, Chekhov’s fork and every other potentially dangerous prop the camera lingers on. The family are all deeply unpleasant at some level and so their deaths register as meaningless. Yes, the film has the obligatory something to say about how our tendency to ignore domestic abuse creates demons that destroy families, but then absolutely panders to bloodlust by absolutely revelling in some of the most extreme violence imaginable between family members (and a pet). To say this is not a film for the sensitive is to understate things considerably. This is a film that absolutely earns its content guidance warnings.
Is there any comedy? Some, but it feels out of place given the absolute brutality inflicted on the cast. While most of the other films were self-aware about setting up a ludicrously grisly end for a villain as a payoff, in Evil Dead Burn,the kills have very little flair. It’s also hard to know what the rules for getting rid of a Deadite are, as some of them are still upright and chatty after losing most of the contents of their skull and some are dispatched by the repeated application of a blunt object to the head. Towards the end, a McGuffin is added to make the kills final, but before that, who knows?
Should you watch Evil Dead Burn,? It certainly gets vocal reactions from audiences in a cinema, and if you’re a gorehound you’ll be in for a ride. If you’re a horror fan, it’s certainly a horror film, but violent instead of scary. If you’re just a fan of cinema who likes good films whether or not they’re horror films, then this will be an alienating watch. In Evil Dead Rise the decay of the family was more than background noise and factored into the circumstances of the individual deaths, but not here. It has slight pretences of being a film with Themes and Ideas, but in the end it just feels like an excuse to serve up limbs being mutilated, skulls being crushed and any number of stabbings, slicings and gougings rendered with psychopathic visual fidelity. If that’s what you’re after, that’s what it’s got.
Entertainment
‘Children of Blood and Bone’ author won’t see film after feud with star Amandla Stenberg
Tomi Adeyemi, the author of the bestselling fantasy “Children of Blood and Bone,” isn’t planning to see the forthcoming film adaptation — even though she co-wrote it.
Over the weekend, the Nigerian American author posted a video on TikTok addressing fans who have been asking her the same question, “Why don’t you post about the adaptation of your first film adaptation anymore?”
“There is a reason I will not post anything about the adaptation of my work,” the author wrote in what appear to be screenshots of a group chat. “I have not seen the film, and I will not watch it.”
The adaptation of the first installment of Adeyemi’s “Legacy of Orïsha” fantasy trilogy is slated to hit theaters in January 2027. Gina Prince-Bythewood — who wrote and directed “Love & Basketball” and helmed “The Woman King” — is directing. The film stars Amandla Stenberg, Thuso Mbedu, Tosin Cole, Damson Idris, Cynthia Erivo, Lashana Lynch, Regina King, Idris Elba, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Viola Davis.
Alongside the screenshots of her comments in the group chat, she shared a February 2025 exchange with Stenberg that shows the author severing ties with the actor.
Adeyemi shared only her final message to Stenberg, which reads, “Do not ever use my name in an interview or video again. Do not text me. Do not call me.” That exchange is followed by a notification that she blocked Stenberg, who plays Princess Amari in the upcoming fantasy flick.
The message from Stenberg that preceded Adeyemi’s reply is not shown in full.
Stenberg, who played Rue in “Hunger Games,” Starr Carter in “The Hate U Give” and, recently, Verosha “Osha” Aniseya and Mae-ho “Mae” Aniseya in Disney’s “Star Wars” series “The Acolyte,” had been getting flack from readers of the series, who claimed colorism was an issue while casting the movie.
In February 2025, Stenberg posted a since-deleted nine-minute TikTok addressing the controversy and told followers that Adeyemi had given the actor her blessing when cast as the series’ princess.
“I am four months into training for ‘Children of Blood and Bone’ and I am getting my ass whooped,” Stenberg joked in the video, per BET.
“This year was mostly defined for me, honestly, by contending with what it felt like to receive racist death threats just for existing in the ‘Star Wars’ universe, and that was a really difficult thing for me to move through,” she continued. “But honestly, it feels so much more painful for me to feel like I’m at odds with my own community.”
Stenberg said that she considers her skin tone when navigating her career choices and would “never go after a role” she didn’t feel well suited for. “I know that colorism is an insidious system that relentlessly impacts every facet of entertainment.”
The actor continued that it was actually a meeting with the “Children of Blood and Bone” author that gave her the confidence to pursue the role.
“I had the opportunity to meet Tomi, the novelist, for the first time. … And she goes, ‘Amandla, I want you to know that when you were a little girl and you were cast as Rue in “The Hunger Games,” and people said that Rue’s death wouldn’t be as sad because you’re a Black girl — that inspired me to write this series so that Black girls like you and Black girls of all shades could have a story written about them,’” Stenberg said in the video. “We started crying, and I said to myself, ‘God wants me here.’”
Representatives for Stenberg, Adeyemi and Prince-Bythewood did not immediately respond to The Times’ request for comment.
Movie Reviews
‘Night Nurse’ Review: A Caretaker Explores Her Kink for Elder Abuse in the Year’s Strangest Erotic Thriller
There are any number of erotic thrillers in which rich old men are robbed blind and/or left for dead, but Georgia Bernstein’s admirably bizarre “Night Nurse” might be the first movie of its kind where elder abuse is the source — and possible subject— of its erotic thrills. If there are others, I’m not sure I want to know.
But this woozy debut feature doesn’t rely on its audience being turned on by the relationship between a nubile caretaker and her dementia-addled patient. Their psychosexual bond, meanwhile, hinges on cold-calling vulnerable old people under the guise of a grandchild in financial distress. (“I’m in trouble, nana, send me $10,000 or I’ll be left to rot in jail!” That sort of thing). With its slim wisp of a premise stretched into a Strickland-esque dreamscape that substitutes kink for conflict, the film itself hardly seems convinced by its own wrinkled lust — all desperate kisses and non-touching poses of subservience. More important to Bernstein is what that lust reveals about her characters’ deepest needs, specifically how their need to care and be cared for can be as easily perverted as any other form of desire.
As moody and weightless as the noir-accented score that blows through the movie like a curlicue gust of wind in an old cartoon (credit to musicians Sam Clapp and Steven Jackson), “Night Nurse” lacks the pulse required for its stray feelings to come alive. Still, the film ambiently taps into the latent eroticism of teasing out the distance between how you see yourself and who you really are. Bernstein plays with that distance like a telephone cord wrapped around her fingers, and Eleni — played by the excellent newcomer Cemre Paksoy, powerfully helpless — only frays even more as the receiver is brought near the hook. “Everything I did before today wasn’t me,” the nurse tells co-worker Mona (Eleonore Hendricks) after starting a new job at an Illinois retirement home. “It was somebody else.”
What she did before today remains unexplored (specifically, what she did to get herself fired from her last gig), but I’m guessing she’s probably changed less than she thought. There’s a faraway flicker in her eyes the moment she catches the vibe between Mona and Douglas (a ribald and elusive Bruce McKenzie), a white-haired seventysomething who shows early signs of dementia but still commands an undiminished sexual energy. “I’m not an invalid,” he coos as Mona bathes him in the tub, to which she replies, “yes, you are,” in a supplicant tone that hints at a rich history of power games between them.
Later that same night, Douglas will force Eleni to call a stranger, pretend that she’s their granddaughter, and ask for money — he’ll wrap the phone cord around the nurse’s body as she talks and shove her against the wall as they kiss. She’s into it. So into it that he has to clarify the terms of his whole deal: “If you’re looking for a pogo stick, I’m really not your guy.” But Eleni isn’t looking for anything to bounce on. She just wants to be needed, and maybe to need someone in return. Someone who will see her for who she really is and allow her the fantasy of pretending she isn’t being herself when she cons vulnerable strangers out of their money — when she exploits how enthralled those strangers are by the care they have for their loved ones.
“Night Nurse” doesn’t belabor the psychology, as Bernstein prefers to express her story through heavy-lidded suggestion. Somnambulating from the moment it starts, the film moves through a series of beautifully arranged poses that stretch their latent meaning thin across the surface (Lidia Nikonova’s cinematography lacquers every shot with a seductive dreaminess). We see Douglas smoking in a lawn chair with Mona and Eleni curled around his feet. Eleni riding in the backseat of a convertible as the wind blows through her curls. The full staff of nurses — all of them under Douglas’ sway — stumbling around his condo in a state of zonked out bliss as they roll on the prescription drugs they’ve stolen from the residents.
Once you’ve seen one shot of this movie, you’ve practically seen them all, at least until things escalate during a rushed and unsatisfying third act that forces Eleni into an honest confrontation with herself. People will do just about anything to feel needed — they’ll give whatever degree of care allows them to receive it in return. “Night Nurse” understands that desire, but remains far too numb to treat it.
Grade: C+
The Independent Film Company will relase “Night Nurse” in theaters on Friday, July 10.
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