What’s a few broken bones when the love of your life is in peril? It’s a mantra violently embedded in protagonist Nathan Caine (Jack Quaid), a regular joe with an extraordinarily rare condition—in which he can’t feel physical pain—who jumps at the opportunity to rescue his would-be girlfriend when a band of bank robbers abducts her. Directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen draw a lot of mileage from the one-dimensional, pain-killing gimmick in Novocaine, a goofy actioner that throws anything and everything at its meek, flailing hero, generating bouts of gore that are not only inventive but gut-bustlingly hilarious. But their film is at its best when it remembers that a broken heart can hurt more than an obliterated forearm.

The implausible story penned by Lars Jacobson wisely invests time in its characters before the mayhem begins. Nathan’s inability to feel much of anything, pushes him into a closeted, helpless existence solely revolving around his job as a kind-hearted bank manager and a few online gaming sessions with his only friend (Jacob Batalon), who he’s never actually seen in person. Everything changes when he forms a connection with recent hire Sherry (Amber Midthunder) who, like Nathan, has some demons hiding in her closet.

Their budding, baring romance is cut short when their bank is held up by Santa suit-sporting thieves, who kidnap Nathan’s sweetheart as they make their escape. Determined to recapture the first person who gave his life meaning, Nathan dives into a violent criminal world like a fish out of water. His numbing genetic condition gives him a gnarly edge over each assailant, but as he delves deeper into the underworld, he learns the heist is more than what first met the eye.

While narrative inconsistencies and contrivances poke bigger holes in the plot than the arrows in Nathan’s battered body, Novocaine is too raucous and lively to let them dampen its sprit. From Nathan handling scalding cast-iron skillets and deep-fried Glocks to punching broken glass to fashion a twisted take on brass knuckles, Berk and Olsen’s film revels in each resourcefully choreographed kill. It all coalesces in a hysterical faux-torture sequence, where Nathan is forced to pretend to be in agonizing pain.

It’s a memorable sequence that owes its success to Quaid’s go-for-broke performance, which carefully tows the line between endearing ignorance and white-knuckled ferocity. Quaid exudes an earnest charm that keeps much of Novocaine’s more questionably plotted sequences afloat. While a tad too reliant on slow-motion, Berk and Olsen prove themselves to be exciting, idiosyncratic voices in the modern action space. Yes, Novocaine is one-note but it plays it with flair, passion, and heart.

Novocaine is in theatres March 14