Here’s the shocking truth: Roofman is not the movie the trailers are selling—and that’s a good thing. But here’s where it gets controversial: What if the film you’ve been led to believe is a wild crime comedy is actually a deeply moving drama about systemic failure and human resilience? Paramount Pictures’ latest release, directed by Derek Cianfrance and starring Channing Tatum, is a masterclass in subverting expectations. The trailers? They’re just the tip of the iceberg, hinting at the absurdity of Jeffrey Manchester’s (Tatum) true story—a former U.S. Army soldier turned rooftop robber who famously hid in a Toys "R" Us for months. Yet, the film itself is so much more.
And this is the part most people miss: Roofman isn’t just about heists and hijinks. It’s a poignant exploration of a kind-hearted man trapped in a cycle of self-destruction, fueled by systemic barriers and poor choices. Tatum delivers a career-best performance, making you root for Jeffrey even as his decisions spiral out of control. The film doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of his life—like losing access to his three young children—but it balances these moments with unexpected humor and warmth. It’s not a comedy, but it’s not soul-crushingly somber either, unlike Cianfrance’s Blue Valentine or The Place Beyond the Pines. Instead, it’s a delicate dance between laughter and heartbreak.
Kirsten Dunst shines as Leigh Wainscott, a Toys "R" Us employee and single mom who becomes entangled in Jeffrey’s life. Her character could have easily been a caricature—a churchgoer running a charity toy drive—but Dunst infuses her with such emotional depth that you feel every ounce of her struggle. Their relationship is the heart of the film, but it’s tinged with an inescapable melancholy, knowing how it’s destined to end. Bold claim: The scene between Tatum and Dunst in a church might just be one of the most emotionally devastating moments of the year.
Visually, Roofman is a feast for the eyes, thanks to cinematographer Andrij Parekh’s use of 35mm film. The texture, the naturalism, the early 2000s nostalgia—it all feels authentic. The long shots capture Jeffrey’s paranoia, while the period-accurate branding of fast-food chains like McDonald’s, KFC, and Burger King adds an eerie layer of realism. Controversial interpretation: The film weaponizes nostalgia, turning iconic brands into symbols of both freedom and imprisonment.
One of the most gut-wrenching moments comes during Jeffrey’s court hearing, where he’s sentenced to 45 years for non-violent robberies. It’s a stark reminder of how the system fails those it’s meant to protect. Even his attempts to connect with Leigh’s family through gifts from the very brands he looted feel tragically misguided. And the climactic robbery inside Toys "R" Us? Far from funny, it’s heartbreaking. That dye packet scene with Peter Dinklage? It’s not a laugh—it’s a punch to the gut.
Roofman is a film that makes you laugh, cry, and question the systems that shape our lives. It’s a testament to the power of storytelling, proving that sometimes the best movies are the ones that don’t fit neatly into a box. Thought-provoking question: Is Jeffrey Manchester a hero, a victim, or something in between? Let’s debate it in the comments. Now playing in theaters nationwide, this is one film you won’t want to miss.
