**Roofman**

Putting aside the fact that the early 2000s serve as a nostalgia-trip backdrop—which makes me feel old and sad indeed—purporting to be “a true story,” as this movie does, is often cause for concern. It might be a function of my innate formalism or ongoing, probably misplaced umbrage at the paucity of original screenplays being brought to life, but the blurred line between recorded and recreated events can be problematic.

Hypocritical, I know, as some of my favorite movies are lightly fictionalized relitigations of contemporary events. The heart of the problem might be in the frequent overreliance on the audience’s memory, which becomes a shortcut to bypass the hard work of imagination and craft.

Fortunately, *Roofman* comes from Derek Cianfrance, a “don’t make ’em like they used to” sort of filmmaker with a humanist streak whose lineage would seem to run back to Cassavetes and Capra. I can’t call myself a completist of his work (a little shameful, given that he only has a handful of director credits), but I’ve been an admirer since *Blue Valentine* (2010), which cemented Cianfrance as an artist insistent on naturalistic intimacy, both in terms of aesthetic and performance.

With *The Place Beyond the Pines* (2012), he broadened the scope of his work with an ambitious, multigenerational crime story that may not, ultimately, live up to its own grandiosity. Still, it’s a vivid, often transfixing work, defined by still beauty, heart-wrenching performances, and breathtaking, whirlwind action sequences.

Maybe more to the point, the narrative driving it draws deeply on themes of oppressive systems of power and people actively resistant to that oppression. In plain language: criminals. But Cianfrance is more interested in inner light, desperation, and all of that than he is in labels.

That sensibility is ideally suited to the fictionalization of the story of Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum), a hard-luck case who would eventually come to be known as the Roofman. As the movie opens, we see Manchester hacking his way through the roof of a North Carolina McDonald’s. We learn, soon enough, that this had become something of a trademark, as he successfully robbed between 40 and 60 of the fast food joints (among others) during a multi-year spree.

To paraphrase a cop on his trail, Manchester is probably a genius, but also pretty dumb. A U.S. Army veteran, survival specialist, and keen observer, Manchester—as Tatum portrays him—has fallen into the socioeconomic pit that, 20 years ago, we hardly knew the depths of.

Opportunity and earning potential limited by his past and his proclivities, he turned to robbery to provide a better life for his growing family. And it worked until he got caught. Perhaps partially because he was, by all accounts, too nice for a life of crime.

But his practicality, training, and resistance to captivity kick in, and he soon enough finds a hidey-hole behind the bikes in a Toys ‘R Us, where he hacks the security system and takes up residence.

At first, sleeping under a Spiderman blanket and living on peanut M&Ms is something of a dream come true, but eventually Jeff succumbs to the need to venture out and becomes entwined with a Toys ‘R Us employee named Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), her family, and her church. It’s a dangerous move, to say the least, but it speaks as much to the man’s innate humanity and humaneness as it does to simple boredom.

No good deed going unpunished and all things coming to an end, though, our protagonist eventually realizes the scene is still too hot for him to stick around, and a complicated situation becomes wildly entropic.

Without the steadfast empathy of a director like Cianfrance and the consummate expressiveness of an actor like Tatum (who I don’t think gets his due as one of the great performers of deep sadness), this could be Lifetime movie pap. But presented as it is, with such intimacy, care, and kindness, it expands within itself: a caper movie turned romantic comedy turned exegesis on the notion of justice.

It moves beyond its own scenario to illuminate the hearts of its characters, even giving Peter Dinklage’s dickish store manager Mitch a minor moment of transcendence.

Even though it could be mired in hopelessness, *Roofman* moves deftly from beat to beat on a current of beautiful, muted optimism that speaks to the potential inborn goodness of the species. And in a moment when that impulse seems more obscured than ever, that is, as Carver put it, a small, good thing.

**Rated R, 126 minutes**
**Now Playing: Broadway Theatre**

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**John J. Bennett** (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.

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**For showtimes, call:**
Broadway Cinema: (707) 443-3456
Minor Theatre: (707) 822-3456

*This article appears in Protecting the Night.*
https://www.northcoastjournal.com/arts-scene/screens/roofman-aims-high/