In my notes for Novocaine, one thought stands out: “That’s not how anything works”.

It’s a given that films aren’t real and they only work on their own established rules. The bus in Speed moves at the speed of drama, for example. We accept the framing if the story is good enough. In Novocaine, the setup is outrageous. But for a moment, it made me care just enough that I bought into the fantasy.

Nathan Caine (Jack Quaid), nicknamed Novocaine for his genetic disorder that causes him not to feel pain, is a mild-mannered recluse who is terrified of living. Everything potentially can and most likely will hurt him, so it’s best to hunker down and play games remotely with his online buddy Roscoe (Jacob Batalon).

Then, Nate falls for Sherry (Amber Midthunder), the pretty teller working at his bank. To his surprise, she brings out life in him he didn’t know was there, and they spend a night together. The next day, their bank is robbed, and Sherry is kidnapped. In a split second, Nate decides to pursue the kidnappers and save his newfound love personally.

If you’re asking why would Nate feel so passionately about a girl he just met, or how does not feeling pain make him at all suited for a violent pursuit with dangerous criminals, chances are you’re going to have a bad time with this film. Novocaine is a one-trick pony that milks said equine to the point of malnutrition. It has as much setup for its action as a Super Mario game, and asks us to go along with it for almost two hours of nonstop cartoon hi-jinks.

I could accept that Nate can’t feel pain, that is actually one of the things the film establishes well. We even get a heartbreaking scene where Nate admits he’s never had pie because he’s so afraid he would bite his tongue and not know it. There’s a lot left unsaid in the insinuations of his lonely life, and they’re easily the best parts of the otherwise sloppy script.

But the nature of the body doesn’t change. Even if Nate can’t feel pain, surely the fact that he gets shot by a crossbow or that a Bowie knife tears through his hand would incapacitate him for good? Tendons and bones still break, and once those go, no amount of adrenaline is going to help.

Instead, Nate pushes on like the Coyote from the Road Runner cartoons. We’re here to enjoy guilt-free watching someone get shot, stabbed, run over, and beaten in horrific ways. It’s funny because he can’t feel a thing, the film says. I can’t agree. I just found it mean-spirited. Even though the film makes Nate out to be a serial killer in its haste to keep the plot going. He’s known Sherry for all of twelve hours, yet within minutes he’s torturing people and happily informing his suspects about the many murders he’s committed.

This is not a film where we should be asking these questions. It’s a farce. A black comedy about, well, I don’t know what it’s about. Love? Nate’s fixation is more of an obsession. Maybe it’s about discovering the courage to live even with your limitations. But Nate doesn’t have them. He survives certain death because we, the audience, want him to suffer more.

What that says about us, I don’t want to consider. Perhaps the film itself lives up to its title in this regard. In the end, I was numb and just didn’t care anymore.