‘Roofman’ is a charming heist in a criminally underused setting

“Roofman”
R | 126 minutes
Director: Derek Cianfrance
Writers: Derek Cianfrance, Kirt Gunn
Stars: Channing Tatum, Kirsten Dunst, Peter Dinklage

Derek Cianfrance’s “Roofman” is a stranger-than-fiction dramady that finds both humor and heartache in one man’s misguided pursuit of the American dream. Based on the true story of the “Roofman Robber,” the film boasts a charming performance from Channing Tatum and a premise ripe with comedic and dramatic possibility. The result is a film that is as oddly endearing as its protagonist, balancing moments of genuine charm and tension with frustrating detours into schlocky melodrama. 

However, its ambitions stretch beyond its grasp, resulting in a quirky, character-driven story that is more likely to be appreciated as a modest late-night diversion than hailed as a must-see triumph.

The film’s zany premise is its greatest asset. Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum) is a kind-hearted, simple-minded, desperate war veteran who finds his military skills useless in the civilian job market of late-1990s/early-2000s North Carolina. Manchester had once served in the 82nd Airborne Division and struggled to fit back into civilian life. He was rejected by his wife for being unable to support their three children. When an army buddy suggested he apply the best of his abilities to pull his life together, Manchester took the advice in a wholly original direction.

He leverages his observational skills into a unique criminal enterprise: memorizing scheduled money-drops and breaking through the roofs of fast-food restaurants at dawn to steal cash. Throughout his robberies, Manchester would maintain a gentle and cordial demeanor, almost apologetic courtesy, instantly framing him as a down-on-his-luck everyman we are meant to root for. After a dramatic arrest and a staggering 45-year sentence, the real story begins as he engineers a prison escape. His hideout? The whimsical, cavernous interior of a Toys ‘R’ Us.

It is here where “Roofman” finds its fleeting stride. Set against a backdrop of payphones and Blockbuster nostalgia, these sequences of clever survival are the film’s undisputed highlight. A voiceover explains how the hardest part about isolation is keeping your brain busy, a seemingly simple task for Toys ‘R’ Us to provide. The cat-and-mouse game with the store’s surly manager, Mitch (a deliciously ruthless but underused Peter Dinklage), hints at a sharper, more satirical film lurking beneath the surface. For a time, Cianfrance masterfully juxtaposes the life of a hardened fugitive with the colorful, innocent aisles of a toy store, creating a brilliant absurdity that is both alluring and engaging.

However, “Roofman’s” troubles are most apparent when its ambitions pull it away from its strengths. What starts as a quirky crime caper drifts awkwardly into a middling family drama once Jeffrey John and Leigh’s relationship blossoms. The film gives this romantic subplot so much weight that the pacing grinds to a halt. The thrilling tension of the hideout is abandoned for a straight-faced, Lifetime-esque domesticity where the fugitive and the cashier loll in bed after church.

This unfocused tone is exacerbated by the script’s handling of its protagonist. The film works relentlessly to frame Jeffrey as a misunderstood criminal with a good heart — that ultimately means well. Through repetitive voiceovers and narrative beats, he justifies his actions with a litany of excuses: he was not good at school, he was good in the military, he just wanted to buy his daughter the things she deserved to have. This relentless sympathy grab often feels unearned, as the film downplays the seriousness of his sustained criminal behavior in service of a frothy, crowd-pleasing narrative.

Technically, the film reflects its narrative hesitancy. The cinematography has a dull, grainy quality that lends a certain nostalgic texture but also renders the visuals muted and lacking the crispness or visual flair the story’s absurdity begs for. Furthermore, the ending, which sees the “genius” criminal undone by a bafflingly dumb move, feels like a narrative cheat — a safe resolution that avoids a more challenging or ambiguous conclusion.

“Roofman” is a film caught in a paradox of its own making. It is not a high-octane heist film nor a deeply probing character study, but a charming caper that plays it too safe. It would have fared better by wholeheartedly committing to the brilliant absurdity of its core premise — the criminal in the toy store — and scaling back its more conventional dramatic impulses. ♦