Pain has always been at the heart of action cinema, whether it's the bruised and battered heroes of yesteryear or the near-invincible titans of modern blockbusters. The genre thrives on suffering; on men (women when they let us) pushing past their limits and gritting their teeth through broken bones and bullet wounds. But what if a hero didn’t have to push past such excruciating agony? That’s the conceit behind Novocaine, a high-concept action-comedy from directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen, in which Jack Quaid’s Nate Caine discovers that his greatest weakness - his inability to sense pain - might just be his greatest advantage.

Nate is a mild-mannered assistant bank manager, an unassuming figure who’s spent his life avoiding unnecessary risks. His condition, congenital insensitivity to pain, means he has to meticulously regulate everything from bathroom breaks to diet, in case his body suffers damage he can't perceive. When flirtatious co-worker Sherry (Amber Midthunder) takes an interest in him, Nate dares to step out of his shell. Their connection is fleeting but potent - at least for him - which makes it all the more devastating when their bank is robbed, and Sherry is taken hostage by a gang of criminals led by the devilishly deranged Simon (Ray Nicholson). With nothing to lose and no tolerance for hesitation, Nate embarks on a relentless quest to get her back, absorbing more punishment along the way than any man should be able to endure.

Berk and Olsen lean into the absurdity of the premise, crafting set pieces that highlight both the comedic and visceral possibilities of a protagonist who can’t feel pain. Nate’s injuries range from laugh-out-loud ridiculous to genuinely stomach-churning, with the film rarely cutting away from its most brutal moments. Quaid, best known for playing lovable everymen, taps into that same affable energy, adding a surprising streak of determination. He’s not a trained fighter, just a man willing to throw himself into danger. The everyman appeal is reminiscent of The Boys’ Hughie, though Novocaine gives Quaid the chance to lean into physical comedy and bone-crunching resilience in ways that feel fresh.

For all its strengths, Novocaine struggles in one key area: its central romance. Nate’s desperate devotion to Sherry is the emotional core of the film and the motivation behind his reckless crusade - but their chemistry is lukewarm at best. The script makes an effort to tie their connection to Nate’s deeper longing for human intimacy, yet their scenes together lack the spark needed to sell that idea. Midthunder, so magnetic in Prey, feels somewhat underutilised here, as if her character is a more of a plot device than fully realised person. It’s a shame, because the film’s lighthearted tone and absurd premise could have allowed for a more modern, even rom-com-inspired dynamic. Instead, it falls into well-worn action-movie patterns, where the woman exists to be saved rather than to shape the story in her own right.

The film borrows much from the classic action films of the ‘80s and ‘90s, but struggles to recapture what made them endure. It indulges in their excess - the grotesque violence, the cartoonish villainy - but lacks the charm. The best of those films balanced brutality with an irresistible swagger: the self-deprecating humour of John McClane, the unhinged bravado of Riggs and Murtaugh, the effortless cool of Snake Plissken. By contrast, Nate, for all his considerable likability, feels muted. He’s neither a reluctant hero in over his head nor a seasoned pro with a sharp tongue - he exists somewhere in between, amiable but never iconic. Even the film’s humour aims for the self-aware bite of a Shane Black script but lands somewhere softer, lacking the acidic wit.

Despite its shortcomings, Novocaine is an entertaining ride if you can buy into the one-joke premise. The action sequences are inventive, balancing moments of pure mayhem with clever callbacks and escalating stakes. The film’s self-awareness keeps things moving, acknowledging the ridiculousness of its concept without undercutting the tension. Berk and Olsen, who honed their skills in horror, understand how to make an audience squirm, ensuring that even the most absurd moments of violence have weight. There is an emotional satisfaction to seeing Nate - a man who once lived in fear of his own body - hurl himself headfirst into chaos with reckless abandon.

Novocaine succeeds as a chaotic, blood-soaked romp, but misses the opportunity to be something more. It plays things too safe where it could have been sharper, funnier, or more subversive. Instead, it settles into familiar patterns, delivering fun but falling short of greatness. Laugh, wince, possibly forget.

• In cinemas now.