Roofman

As with many movies based on a true story, the end credits are accompanied by footage of the real Roofman. Jeffrey Manchester was operating in the late 90s, and escaped prison to hide out in a Toys "R" Us in 2004, so the local news covered him and his robberies extensively. Most interesting are the interviews with employees of the 40-60 McDonald's he knocked over. As in the film's opening scene, Duane (portrayed by Tony Revolori in the movie) states that Manchester was kind during the incident, even giving him a coat before locking him in the freezer. However, the real Duane seems more confused than appreciative, and doesn't appear to spare him much sympathy. After all, Manchester's gun presented the threat of violence, not to mention the stress of being imprisoned, and tearing away any sense of control. While his gentility may have made the experience slightly less frightening, that doesn't mean it was without consequence. Sure enough, as the movie reaches its climax, we see proof that Manchester's friendliness does not translate into pacifism.

Such is the fraught nature of this type of folk hero. While the targeted corporation deserves no tears, the involvement of low-level employees precludes it from being victimless. However, Derek Cianfrance's newest film doesn't really reckon with that outside of this real world footage. There's one scene at the end that shows the aftermath, but even that is played for warmth and amusement, to send us out into the world feeling good about what transpired, despite the credits quickly complicating it.

Even taken on its own terms, Roofman is not without its problems. The whole first act is spent on backstory, setting up Manchester (Channing Tatum) and his motivations and building our sympathy, arguing he's doing all this because he couldn't afford a bike for his young daughter. It's a slog, accompanied by Tatum's uninspired voice-over. The only bright spot is his thrilling escape a few years into his prison term, which is also the only time his supposed "superpower" of impeccable observation comes into play. Even once the movie arrives at its premise, a dude hiding out in a Toys "R" Us for months on end, there's little juice. Tatum is largely acting alone in the store or against anonymous day players as he goes about town, biding his time until his army buddy Steve (a smirking LaKeith Stanfield) returns from Afghanistan to help him flee the country. It's scattered and flat, and the attempts at humor are quite bland.

But as soon as Tatum is around other people, his natural charm turns on, and the movie springs to life. Initially, it's a bunch of congregants at the nearby church where he drops off a large toy donation (of course all lifted from the aisles of Toys "R" Us). Most importantly, this is where Manchester meets Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), a no-nonsense, recently divorced mother of two who becomes his consistent scene partner as they fall in love. The resulting dynamic forms the emotional core of the narrative, as we watch their relationship evolve and his easy assumption of the role of surrogate father to Dee and Lindsay (Kennedy Moyer and Lily Collias). It reminds us (and to him) how he got into his current predicament, while simultaneously screaming that no matter what's to come, we're supposed to be on his side.

As lovely as these scenes can be, they don't aid the movie in acquiring direction. From the moment he fixates on Leigh, who's also an employee at the toy store, we know where all this is headed. As such, the relationship building cannot help but feel spurious. It's supposed to make the ending tragic, but his lack of growth obviates that possibility. Especially since the conclusion is set in motion by his own actions. A story such as this doesn't need to be surprising, but it does need to spend your time well. While it's not a complete waste, at just over two hours, its bloated prologue ensures it overstays its welcome.

While Tatum and Dunst shine bright, they're supported by a handful of colorful smaller performances to build out the community. Uzo Aduba makes a particularly strong impression as the pastor's wife, but most of them feel like natural parts of the world. Bizarrely, Cianfrance seemed most off-balance when it came to the A-listers who weren't his leads. Stanfield was characteristically great in his handful of scenes, but was woefully underused for his tremendous skill. More galling was his misuse of Peter Dinklage, an incredible talent whose role was so inconsequential I've not had cause to mention him yet. He plays the manager of the Toys "R" Us, a cold-hearted bastard who treats his employees poorly and eventually discovers Manchester. It's not a demanding role, has few comic opportunities, and plain does not matter. Dinklage does a fine job, but the character as written is instantly forgettable.

That's indicative of the biggest problem with the story. So much time is spent on obligatory elements that the fun we could have gets lost. The ideas at its core are incredibly simple, but the narrative space it affords is not used to go all out. And any time it does, it feels out of place. Sure, him test driving Lindsay's new car is fun. but feels like it came from another movie. The energy it injects is desperately needed throughout, but only comes in brief bursts. While it's understandably difficult to pull that off when your lead is alone so often, charging ahead with it anyways is not a recipe for success. Even when that lead is Magic Mike himself.