Novocaine too much of a bloody thing
The DNA of Dan Berk and Robert Olsen’s Novocaine is
evident from the start. The fingerprints of Nobody, Home Alone, Road
Runner cartoons and any Jackie Chan movie are all over this actioner with a
gimmick and, to their credit, the filmmakers acknowledge these influences. Yet,
they bring a wrinkle to the genre, and it’s a doozy.
Focused on a hero who can feel no pain, the filmmakers put their hero through
the ringer in a variety of inspired ways. However, they go to that well too
often, yet a star turn from Jack Quaid keeps us hooked long after the movie’s
novelty has grown old.
Suffering from CIPA (Congenital Insensitivity to Pain),
Nathan Caine (Quaid) must be weary of things we take for granted. The
mild-mannered bank teller has a diet that is mostly liquid, to prevent him
biting his tongue, while every corner in his apartment is covered with halved
tennis balls and his shower head has a heat regulator. A large supply of
band-aids is always at hand. As a result of this condition, he spends most of
his time playing video games with his online friend Roscoe (Jacob Batalon).
Things take an unexpected turn when Sherry (Amber
Midthunder), a co-worker he’s been pining for, asks him out. Needless to say,
it turns out to be a very, very good date, as our hero opens up to her in ways
he seldom does. Instead of being repelled, Sherry sympathizes with his plight and the
potential for love takes root.
Unfortunately, the timing of all this couldn’t be worse as
the very next day, the bank is robbed, Sherry is taken by the thieves and Nate,
in hot pursuit, is mistaken for one of the crooks by two tenacious cops (Matt Walsh
and Betty Gabriel).
What ensues is a series of outlandish action scenes in which
our hero is beaten, bloodied and bruised to within an inch of his life. Burns
are inflicted by sizzling frying pans grabbed in haste, pieces of glass are put
into split knuckles for an impromptu Wolverine imitation and wounds are
inflicted with arrows and bullets, which are extracted with pair of pliers. You
get the idea. And to answer the question you are likely about to pose, no anvils
were used in the making of this film.
It’s a cool idea, as far as it goes, which is too far. What
starts off as good, bloody fun soon becomes repetitious and, ultimately, dull.
Those with an aversion to violence, this is not your cup of tea. To be sure,
much of the action and gore is rendered in a cartoonish manner, but without
Quaid, none of this would work. Much like Bob Odenkirk’s character in Nobody, the actor brings an everyman quality to his reluctant warrior that proves
relatable. Yet, the actor’s sense of humor, evident in his broad facial
expressions and the elastic physicality he brings to the role keep the audience
invested long after the novelty’s worn off.
Had screenwriter Lars Jacobson fleshed supporting characters
out and provided them with interesting subplots, the film would have felt less
stilted and more complete. As it is, Novocaine tries to skate by on one
inspired idea and thanks to Quaid, it very nearly succeeds. In theaters.
Day a blight on Warner Brothers’ legacy
Watching as many movies as I do, it’s rare that I see something
truly awful. Sure, there are many that fail to come together, as some features
start strong but peter out or others marred by shoddy execution. Others are
tripped up by sloppy editing, direction that’s not cohesive or poor acting.
There are many, many ways a film can go wrong, and with so many moving parts
involved, it’s a miracle anything decent is ever produced. Still and all, it’s
rare that I see something that has no redeeming quality at all.
However, with The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes
Movie, I’m hard-pressed to come up with anything positive to say. What with
Warner Brothers’ animation division having such a long history and solid
reputation, this comes off as a slight, haphazard affair. Failing to capitalize
on its large stable of characters, director and writer Peter Browngardt wastes
a golden opportunity to reintroduce Yosemite Sam, Foghorn Leghorn, the
Tasmanian Devil and others to a new generation. I suspect the fear of being
seen as politically incorrect had something to do with this timid approach.
With Bugs Bunny conspicuously absent, Daffy Duck and Porky
Pig are the only ones deemed “acceptable” to carry on the Warner’s legacy. With
the proper premise, the feathery fowl and porcine rhetorician would be more
than capable of doing so. Unfortunately, Day proves my theory that the more
screenwriters working on a script, the worse the movie is, in a way I didn’t
think possible. 11 – yes, 11! – writers are listed in the credits, an
astonishing number considered the sheer lack of imagination and humor present
in the finished project.
Daffy and Porky (both voiced by Eric Bauza) are living in a
house left to them by a kindly farmer who adopted them when they were young.
It’s in such disrepair, they don’t notice a large hole in their roof until it’s
pointed out by a home inspector. Seems it was caused by a meteor that
crash-landed not far from them. Needing cash, they find employment at the
Goodie Gum Company, where they are getting ready to roll out a new flavor.
However, what the execs there don’t realize is that it’s been contaminated by a
batch of alien goo, put there by a zombified doctor who witnessed the afore-mentioned meteor landing.
What ensues is one manic, misguided attempt after another by
our intrepid duo, as well as Petunia Pig (Candi Milo), to revert the citizens
who chewed the tainted gum from zombie back to human. The third act shifts to a
visual parody of the paranoid sci-fi flicks from the 1950s, yet nothing is done
to mimic Invaders from Mars or The Thing in terms of plot.
Instead, uninspired, repetitious manically executed mayhem ensues, its
overbearing nature more intent on creating headaches than laughs.
It’s telling that Warner Brothers never intended to release
this in theaters but accepted an offer from the Ketchup Films for distribution
rights. Michael De Luca, the head of the studio, has taken to shelving completed
films in order to take a tax write off. That he didn’t take this approach to Day
is despicable. In theaters.
Russo’s empty State an excessive folly
Like a battered robot badly in need of repair, there’s a lot
rattling around in the Russo Brothers’ The Electric State, a piece of
sci-fi sentimentality of the sort Steven Spielberg once cut his teeth on. The
film starts like gangbusters with an exposition dump that gets us up to speed
on all that’s been afoot. Advances in
robotics by the Sentre Corporation allowed mechanicals to become a significant
part of the global workforce. However, when their A.I. brains “achieved
consciousness,” a worldwide revolt ensued. The War for Robot Rights lasts two
years, until Sentre founder Ethan Skate (Stanley Tucci, phoning it in) develops
the Neurocaster, a device that allows him to control the tin can toilers.
Peace is made, but it’s an uneasy truce. The more advanced
robots have been sent to the Exclusion Zone, a 100,000-square-mile prison in
the southwest. Michelle (Millie Bobby Brown) sets out to break into the
makeshift prison, as she has reason to believe her brother, Christopher (Woody
Norman), is being held there. Told years before he’d been killed, along with
their parents, the young woman comes to believe this is a lie when she’s
visited by a robot containing pieces of his personality.
The trip into the Zone is a long one, as screenwriters
Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely include far too many ancillary
characters and incidents. As a result, a sense of urgency is never created, the
film becoming a long slog populated with familiar characters and brought low by
predictable plotting.
Michelle is joined in her quest by Keats (Chris Pratt), a
scavenger who regularly ventures into the Zone to collect analog items
big-money collectors are eager to have. He’s accompanied by his ‘bot buddy, Herman (voice by Anthony Mackie), who gets him out of jams time and time again.
You can tell even Pratt knows he’s played the role of the roguish, reluctant
hero too often. He’s labored throughout, his enthusiasm waning as the film
progresses, his line readings lacking spontaneity. That the Russos didn’t hold
his feet to the fire to elicit a more convincing performance is a mystery.
Countering his bland turn is Brown’s over-earnest
performance. The actress should be commended for investing in her role as she
does, yet there are times when the anguish, anger or excitement she conveys is
just too much, coming off as calculated rather than sincere. As for Tucci, he’s
phoning it in here, a big paycheck his likely motivation for each scene.
Once the end credits roll, you’re likely to feel as if
you’ve accompanied Michelle and Keats over every long mile of their journey. To
be sure, State’s plea for us to put our increasingly invasive technology
aside and return to the practice of embracing human interaction is a timely and
urgent one. Ironically, the message comes off as a rather insincere
afterthought in this empty, excessive entertainment that neither dazzles nor
inspires. Streaming on Netflix.
This article appears in The future of electric vehicles.
