Interviews
‘Novocaine’ Directors and Star Jack Quaid on the Practical Gore Effects and Prosthetics [Interview]
Jack Quaid’s Nathan Caine becomes an unwitting superhero of sorts in action-comedy Novocaine, from directing duo Dan Berk and Robert Olsen (Significant Other, Villains). Or perhaps more accurately, Nate Caine sustains an insane amount of gruesome bodily damage, all in the pursuit of love.
In the film penned by Lars Jacobson, “When the girl of his dreams (Prey’s Amber Midthunder) is kidnapped, everyman Nate turns his inability to feel pain into an unexpected strength in his fight to get her back.”
That inability to feel pain yields no shortage of bone-crunching, ultra-violent carnage that induces laughs and sympathy pain in equal measure. It also leaves star Jack Quaid doused in blood and viscera yet again. The Boys, Scream, and Companion actor frequently finds himself coated in the red splatter thanks to his recent genre work, so much so that it does play a factor when reading scripts now. “It is a calculation now for sure,” Quaid says. “I’m like, ‘Yeah, that’s a lot of fake blood. And I know what that means. I know the cleanup process. I’m shooting the final season of The Boys right now, and in my shower caddy is shaving cream. Not for shaving, just for taking the blood off because that’s what does it the most. Shaving cream and Head & Shoulders shampoo, for some reason, is the best to get fake blood out of it.”
It’s safe to say that the actor spent a lot of time cleaning off fake blood after shooting Novocaine; Nate’s injuries increase with alarming and steady speed throughout the action-comedy. Quaid is quick to praise his directors for their careful tracking of the elaborate physical trauma his character experiences, including a deep-fried hand. “I have to give so much credit to Dan and Bobby for that. They were constantly having discussions of like, ‘Okay, what would hurt him but not necessarily kill him immediately? What is the line of believability? I think they wrote a really good way of saving a lot of those major injuries for towards the end of the movie, where there’s not a lot Nate can do to come back from that.”

It wasn’t the visceral violence that spoke to Quaid, though, but the unique action angle and inspiration from a Blockbuster action sequel. “I just love that I read the script, and I immediately gravitated towards it because I’m such a fan of action movies and I have been for such a long time. I had a religious awakening watching John Wick 4; I remember just thinking Keanu Reeves deserves an Oscar. I believe that. His physicality is unbelievable. He’s doing it in a way that’s specific to John Wick and not any other character he’s played in his action pantheon. And he’s pulling off all these insane moves while still staying in character, and it’s just so inspiring and cool to watch.”
Of course, John Wick feels pain. That Nate can’t might’ve let Quaid explore the comedic side of Novocaine’s premise, but not without working against everything he’s been trained to do when it comes to stunts and action choreography, which is selling the impact of every punch thrown.
Quaid explains, “Actually it was scary at first, to be honest. Because it’s something that they drill into you. As soon as I was doing Hunger Games, my first major movie, I remember doing stunts for that. They really try to say, ‘Hey, sell the pain.’ Because that’s what also makes the audience believe that a hit is real when it’s fake, the reaction afterward. I realized that okay, I have to be really good at selling like my head hit when like I get punched, it needs to feel real. First of all trying to fight like the guy was a challenge at first because if I get punched in the face, my head’s going to move but I just can’t react. But then I realized it’s, without getting too hoity-toity about it, it’s kind of like what silent film stars used to do. Like Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, where their whole shtick kind of was crazy things happening around them and happening to them, but with no real reaction from them.”

Whereas Quaid’s job was to tell the lack of pain, prosthetics designer Clinton Aiden Smith, from COSMESIS advanced prosthetic studio, had the task of creating realistic injuries that continue to wreak havoc on Nate’s body. Olsen told Bloody Disgusting, “Clinton was unbelievable. He was just this, he was an absolute wrecking crew, the whole team over there at Cosmesis. From the very beginning of the prep process, he walked us through it. We would have wound meetings where we would go in, and he would pitch us things, and he would show us these graphic images of real wounds that he’d be like, ‘I found this image online. You can see the woman’s arm has snapped in half.‘“
“He seemed to enjoy it a lot more than he should,“ Berk jokes. “We can imagine what a giant gash on someone’s arm looks like. We don’t need to see 12 references from crime scene photos.”
Olsen continues, “We were all just like, whoa. Looks good. You’ve got the thumbs up from us. Go ahead. So, they did this incredible thing where he built this wound story if you will, where we would walk into the room, and he would have 12 heads of perfectly 3D printed Jack Quaid heads laid along. And here’s the first stage after the first fight, here he is after the second fight, here he is after the third. We would go through with him and be like, ‘Okay, this stage is too similar to this stage, so what can we push off from that fight and put to the next one? Or what can we pull up into this fight from the next one? This one is lacking. So, you could really step back and look at the wound progression from this 10,000 feet up kind of view. That was really cool.“

“He was quite committed to the realism of the wounds, and sometimes we had to pull him back where it’s like, okay, he’d be hemorrhaging blood from that wound, but we can’t really have that happen now. We don’t want the costume to be affected, then we’d have to be tracking that continuity for the rest of it. It was this little push-and-pull, all amicable, of course, but it was always a little bit of just a calculation of the production needs versus the want for the wounds and lacerations to feel real or as close to it as we could get,“ Berk adds.
Because of this, Novocaine was filmed more in sequence than usual. Quaid explains, “That was also just for a practical reason, a lot of the injuries you see on me are done practically. We had an amazing team led by Clinton, our special effects supervisor. He’s the guy; he had to basically take a 3D scan of me, and they printed it out. It’s this green bald bust of me that’s hairless. It’s so odd. It’s basically the first thing I saw coming into South Africa; it was just this very uncanny image of me. But that’s so they could when I wasn’t there, apply all the different wounds to that bust and make sure they worked with the dimensions of my face. Then so many makeup tests for not only the wounds but the tattoos that I have. I just became a canvas, essentially. But I loved every second of it, and it looks really good in the movie. I love that most of it is practical; that’s the stuff that I love.”
Novocaine is now playing in theaters.
Interviews
Avalon Fast on Women, Witches, and the Intoxicating Nature of Girl Horror ‘Camp’
Of all the places to find a coven of witches, the attic above a Christian youth camp is probably the last place you’d think to look. But that’s just what we find in Camp, a surrealist nightmare of feminist empowerment from Canadian filmmaker Avalon Fast.
Emily (Zola Grimmer) is still reckoning with her involvement in a horrific tragedy when she accidentally contributes to the death of her best friend, Charlie (Giselle Morison). Unable to move on, the traumatized teen takes a job at a rural summer camp, hoping to forget her own sorrows by looking after at-risk kids. She quickly connects with a counselor named Clara (Alice Wordsworth) and finds comfort in her close-knit group of female friends. But a mysterious whisper from deep in the woods warns that they may be leading her down a darker path.
Fast burst onto the scene in 2022 with Honeycomb, a psychological horror film that follows a burgeoning matriarchy. Known for their focus on “Girl Horror” stories, the talented young filmmaker tackles similar themes in Camp as Emily leaves the modern world behind to embrace a dark vision of self-discovery through magic.
Ahead of the film’s U.S. release on June 26, Bloody Disgusting sat down with Fast to chat about the nebulous nature of good vs. evil and the intoxicating power of female-driven horror.

Bloody Disgusting: What inspired this unique story? Did you go to religious summer camps when you were young?
Avalon Fast: I did. I went to lots of different summer camps, but all of them were primarily Bible camps. The memory I have of camp is kind of strange. I was very homesick as a kid, and I didn’t necessarily enjoy all my time there. I definitely remember meeting some interesting girls at camp and having that presence of religion hovering around the whole experience.
BD: I really love the film’s gorgeous natural setting. Camp is the kind of surrealist nightmare that you don’t just watch. You feel it too. How did you approach creating this world?
AF: Well, a huge part of it was working with my cinematographer Eily Sprungman, who’s a very close friend. We spent years prepping, shot listing, storyboarding, and mood boarding. She’d had a similar experience to mine. We grew up around the same place, and so we understood each other’s visions from the get-go. But there are so many other pieces that came together. The costuming, the art, and the animated sequences were done by Sofiya Iurkevych. One of our producers, Taylor Nodrick, was obsessed with shooting on Super 8 film. I’ve always wanted to as well, so all the memory sequences were shot on Super 8. It was just a lot of people with an understanding and a vision for what this project was. I’m really happy with the way it turned out.
To the extent that you’re comfortable sharing, what’s your relationship to witchcraft, and what does Camp have to say about modern witches?
Well, that’s the question of Camp. It’s not that I don’t resonate with any of these things, but I specifically wanted Camp to be a little bit ambiguous around what witchcraft looks like. Is this witchcraft? Are these girls witches? Emily explicitly asks if that’s what’s happening here, and the answer isn’t yes. The film isn’t going to answer that question for you. My relationship to magic and witchcraft? It’s tough. I feel like there’s so much magic, connection, and spirituality that comes from these friendships, the closeness of these women, and what’s happening around them. A lot of what Camp is trying to say or show is just that magic can come out of friendship.

I loved watching these female friendships develop. And you’re right. No one ever says the word “coven,” but you can feel that connection, and you can see a change in Emily as those relationships grow. I’m also really fascinated with the way Camp plays with the idea of good and evil. At one point, Clara says, “Maybe God drew us to the devil,” which stopped me in my tracks. How do you view witchcraft or the magic these girls are experiencing in regard to good and evil?
That was such a huge part of the script’s construction. The story is really trying to keep a balance between those two things. I like asking people if they think these girls are good or bad, because I feel like a lot of people come out of the film thinking one or the other. They’ll say things like “thank God Emily found her people” or “God, I really wish she’d gone home.” I just don’t think there’s ever an answer. I wanted to explore the idea of going down the wrong path, especially coming out of grief. What makes you a bad person, and does healing mean you’re looking to become a better person? I don’t have an answer, but I do feel like that’s a huge part of what Camp is asking. What is good? What is bad? Why did God bring me to the devil?
Yes, because this is all happening at “God camp” in Emily’s words. So how can both of those things exist at the same time? Along those lines, I’m also fascinated by the voice Emily hears in the woods. Without spoiling too much, what is this voice asking, and what is required in return?
Emily comes to camp with a shout into the void, asking can anyone hear me? Does anyone want to? And it’s answered so clearly by these girls, specifically responding only with love, care, support, and trust. It’s like her prayers were answered. It doesn’t mean that everything is going to be alright, but Emily is looking for peace. She’s looking for a moment where she feels pure good. And I think, even at its surface level, she does get that experience.
Personally, I don’t really think people are good or bad. I think we all exist somewhere in the middle. Camp centers traditionally villainized characters, but that’s where Emily seems to find her peace, however you choose to define it.
I also wanted to show the experience of having decided that you are a bad person, you’ve made mistakes, and you feel cursed. Then when you meet other people who have done things that you would consider worse, you can actually feel good in their presence. You feel like less of a bad person. I think that’s a huge part of the story as well. Emily’s finding her version of other fucked up people, and she feels less fucked up around them. I’ve found that in my own life. It’s a cool thing. I don’t think it’s bad.
I don’t think it’s bad either. It’s finding your home, your people. We meet Emily in the aftermath of unthinkable trauma. Is this a story about mental health and healing?
Witnessing it myself. witnessing other people experience tragedy and then move through grief, you hear a lot of talk about healing or coming out the other side. There’s so much conversation around what that looks like, with self-care and showing up for yourself. I always felt really averse to it. It annoyed me. I think the beginning of the film speaks to that. The therapeutic version of what getting help looks like is obviously very different from what Camp is showing. And again, I don’t have an answer for what you’re supposed to do. But I think that’s another question I was asking: how do you heal? Do you heal at all? Is that the end goal, or are we just trying to get better? It’s something I experienced in my own grief. And the answer, for me, at least now, is just that I’m not looking to get better. So I felt like I hadn’t. I found it hard to find people to have those conversations with. And I think that’s what I ultimately wanted to make a film about.

I love that unanswered question. In my own experience, I’ve had to reframe what healing actually looks like. There’s not really an endpoint. It’s just finding a way to keep going. There’s also an element of sacrifice in this story, particularly regarding another counselor named Jo (Sophie Bawks-Smith). What role does she play in Emily’s journey?
For me, Jo is this human embodiment of Charlie, Emily’s friend. As Jo, she had a life at this camp before meeting Emily, and then was kind of taken over by Charlie’s spirit. I think a lot of people view Emily’s final choice as horrendous and tragic. In a way it is, but for me, if Jo becomes her angel, it’s almost like a self-sacrifice. Jo knows that by sacrificing herself, she’ll be giving Emily power to move forward. In the original script, the girls were supposed to bring out another counselor, JB (Aidan Laudersmith), and burn his body. But I just thought, there’s no way sacrificing this guy could give the girls enough power. There’s just no way, right? Logically, that just didn’t line up for me.
I’m glad you mentioned JB, because he has his own tragic arc. How do men factor into the world of Camp?
The way men factor into my world is so bizarre. I have such little respect for them in my films, which is something I’ve been called on. I think I have to challenge myself in the future to make a movie about a boy because, these boys … It’s not that the men in my films aren’t redeemable, but there’s no depth to these characters. They’re just treated with such disrespect. I don’t know why I do that, actually. That’s something for me to look into. It was the same with Honeycomb. They’re just such peripheral characters. I’ve had people ask about Kayne (Henri Gillespi), the scary guy at the fire, what happens to him? I just think, I don’t know. I don’t care. That’s not the point of the story.

Well, I can say after a lifetime of watching women on the periphery of the story, the course correction feels nice. In a similar vein, I’m in love with your homepage, avalonfast.com. There’s an image of girls on a film set and then a still from Honeycomb in which a blood-covered girl is screaming at the sky. And in the middle, it just says Girl Horror. It’s a really powerful statement that gives me chills. How do you define Girl Horror, and what draws you to these types of stories?
I was obsessed with the term when I started making my movies. It was something I’d come up with to kind of brand myself and describe what I was doing. Then I went through a period where I felt like it was a bit gender exclusive and didn’t interest me as much. But now I’ve come full circle on the term. I think it’s a bit of a commentary on youth and the horror of growing up female. But I think everybody can relate to that experience. I don’t want it to feel like this exclusive thing, that I make movies exclusively for girls, because I don’t think I do. I’m interested in exploring what Girl Horror means. Originally, it was just a title, something I came up with, and now it’s become something that resonates with people. You said it gave you chills. That’s cool for me to hear because there’s obviously some depth there.
Are you working on anything new?
Yes. I am actually making a movie about a boy. That’s the next thing.
That’s exciting! The more I think about feminism, the more I end up coming back to men and boys, because they have a place in the world of Girl Horror too.
Absolutely. It’s all just part of being human.

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