Picture this: You're lured in by a flashy trailer promising wild laughs and daring heists, only to discover a deeply moving tale of a man's struggle against insurmountable odds and the harsh realities of life. That's the unexpected magic of Roofman, starring Channing Tatum—far superior to what the previews suggest.
Warning: This piece includes spoilers for Roofman.
Let's get real about movie trailers—they're like flashy ads designed to hook the widest crowd possible, not always a true mirror of the film's brilliance. Distributors prioritize broad appeal, and Roofman stands out as a prime case where a straightforward marketing push conceals a cinematic gem that might just surprise you this year. Directed by Derek Cianfrance, the story draws from the astonishing real-life escapades of Jeffrey Manchester (played by Tatum), a former U.S. Army vet dubbed the Rooftop Robber for his rooftop break-ins at spots like McDonald's. After a prison breakout, Jeffrey secretly bunkers down in a Toys 'R' Us for months, flying under the radar of the staff. The trailers lean into this wild side, painting the movie as a zany crime caper, with posters showing Tatum frolicking amid the store's playful toys. It's reminiscent of the cleverly deceptive campaign for One Battle After Another, which draws in casual viewers with surface-level excitement before unveiling richer, more layered storytelling.
But here's where it gets controversial—what if the film you're watching challenges your views on crime and punishment?
Roofman isn't as relentlessly bleak as Cianfrance's previous works, such as the emotionally raw Blue Valentine or the intense The Place Beyond the Pines. Sure, it has its humorous moments, but I'd hesitate to call it a straight-up comedy. Instead, it's a poignant, heartbreaking drama that explores the societal forces keeping a well-meaning offender stuck in a loop of self-sabotage. For beginners diving into films like this, think of it as a story that doesn't just show bad choices—it digs into how things like poverty, lack of support, or systemic barriers can trap people in cycles they can't easily escape, much like how economic pressures might lead someone to unconventional paths for survival.
Tatum delivers what could be his finest role yet, portraying Jeffrey (who goes by John Zorn) in a way that tugs at your heartstrings, making you cheer for him even as his poor decisions worsen his situation. We see him lose custody of his three young kids before he even reaches his hidden spot in the toy store, setting up a foundation of loss that colors the entire narrative.
And this is the part most people miss—how Tatum's portrayal reveals Jeffrey's sharp intellect and magnetic charm.
Roofman shines in its tender, unexpectedly somber portrayal of human connection.
Paramount Pictures
Tatum is absolutely captivating in Roofman, as we get up close with Jeffrey's clever tactics for staying one step ahead. He's an exceptionally bright and likable guy, spotting opportunities in plain sight that others overlook and acting swiftly. The 'grown man in a toy paradise' vibe adds a sliver of optimism when Jeffrey begins a romance with Leigh Wainscott (Kirsten Dunst), a Toys 'R' Us worker juggling her job while raising her kids as a single mom with barely any family time. Dunst matches Tatum with a warm yet gut-wrenching performance; Leigh could have easily felt like a stereotype—an earnest church attendee organizing charity toy drives—but Dunst infuses her with profound emotional depth.
Their budding romance packs an even bigger punch when you consider its doomed trajectory, almost inevitable from the start. The script, co-written by Cianfrance and Kirt Gunn, weaves in an unshakable sadness that lingers throughout their relationship. There's a particularly tear-jerking scene between Tatum and Dunst in a church that still gets to me every time.
Filmed by cinematographer Andrij Parekh on 35mm, Roofman captures Cianfrance's signature realism while looking stunningly beautiful. I'm not against digital filmmaking, but seeing a big-studio release with real texture on the actors' faces warms the heart—it's like feeling the warmth of a genuine photograph. Those sweeping long shots effectively convey Jeffrey's growing unease and distrust. Plus, shooting on film adds extra gravitas to the early 2000s backdrop and the authentic recreations of familiar brands.
Roofman masterfully uses nostalgic symbols to deepen its impact.
Paramount Pictures
You can't recount this true tale without spotlighting the big corporations Jeffrey targeted, from KFCs to Burger Kings. The production team went to great lengths to recreate these locations as they'd appear plucked straight from 2004, boosting the story's credibility. As Jeffrey integrates into Leigh's world and the supportive community around her, his cozy Toys 'R' Us hideout morphs into just another cage, symbolizing how corporate influences can imprison us in unexpected ways—think of it like how modern society sometimes equates worth with material possessions or brand loyalty.
One of the film's most tragic sequences unfolds in Jeffrey's courtroom for the McDonald's incidents, where, in spite of his gentle nature and lack of violence, he's handed a staggering 45-year sentence. It's a stark commentary on how the system can treat even non-aggressive offenders harshly, turning him into a captive of these corporations. Jeffrey spirals into a pattern of offering stolen goods from the brands he's burglarized to bridge the gap with the Wainscotts, even though his simple presence should suffice. The movie's climactic heist in the Toys 'R' Us? It's devastating and unsettling, far from the trailer clip where Peter Dinklage's Mitch gets a face full of dye—that moment loses all its humor in full context.
While Roofman might elicit chuckles, it never drifts from its core of empathy and sorrow, focusing on a person who played the best game possible with the hand life dealt him. It's shaping up to be one of the standout films of the year.
Roofman is currently screening in theaters across the country.
What do you think—does rooting for a criminal like Jeffrey make you uncomfortable, or do you see him as a victim of circumstance? And let's debate: Is the justice system's treatment of non-violent crimes fair, or does it perpetuate cycles of hardship? Share your opinions in the comments below; I'd love to hear differing views!
