Roofman

Like a lot of wayward veterans, the skills that made him an exceptional soldier haven’t translated to civilian life — he’s crafty and resourceful, just not in a way that pays the bills. Not legally, at least: Derek Cianfrance’s first movie in nearly a decade tells the true story of the armed robber known as Roofman, who broke into the many establishments he plundered from above and whose victims remember him for being oddly polite as he held them at gunpoint. In other words, the perfect role for Channing Tatum.

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Looking like the captain of the football team while acting like the star of the theater department has long been Tatum’s forte. It sounds like an easy, obvious trick, but he’s proved surprisingly nimble in projects ranging from Foxcatcher and Magic Mike to 21 Jump Street and The Hateful Eight — it’s as though he goes into each performance expecting to be underestimated and delights in consistently proving any would-be naysayers wrong. Jeffrey might be the role best suited to his particular set of skills: a fundamentally decent guy who, down on his luck and seeing little recourse, does things he knows to be wrong while trying to remain a good person.

Most of his actual crime spree is implied in a montage near the beginning of the film, with the narrative primarily focused on his attempt to elude capture by hiding in a tucked-away section of a Toys “R” Us after escaping prison to avoid a 45-year sentence. A toy store you can’t leave and are only allowed to roam freely at night isn’t much better than a prison cell, and so as time passes and he grows increasingly antsy, he takes bigger and bigger risks.

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That mainly comes in the form of leaving the store during the day to pursue a relationship with Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), an employee of the store who catches his eye. Dunst, who’s wisely taken a quality-over-quantity approach to her resume in recent years, has truly hit her stride: she looks more sure of herself than ever, and with good reason. Her character, like the actress herself, gives the impression of having seen it all without letting her hardships make her betray her principles.

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The two leads are joined by a stacked ensemble cast that includes Peter Dinklage as the imperious Toys “R” Us manager, Ben Mendelsohn as the pastor of the church Jeffrey joins to get closer to Leigh, LaKeith Stanfield as his military buddy who’s skilled at forging passports, Tony Revolori as the McDonald’s manager whom Jeffrey lends a coat before locking him in a walk-in freezer, and Lily Collias as Leigh’s sullen teenage daughter who — rightly, it turns out — is wary of Jeffrey, among others. If it’s true that there are no small parts, the fact that so many gifted actors were happy to appear onscreen for just a few minutes each suggests an eagerness to work with a director known for actor-friendly projects that bring out the best in his cast.

Looking like the captain of the football team while acting like the star of the theater department has long been Tatum’s forte.

Cianfrance, who made a name for himself with the heartbreakers Blue Valentine and The Place Beyond the Pines, most recently co-wrote and directed the HBO miniseries I Know This Much Is True. He specializes in deeply conflicted characters whose struggles to be the person they want to be sometimes puts them on the wrong side of the law. There’s a clear line between Jeffrey and The Place Beyond the Pines’ Luke, a motorcycle stunt rider played by Ryan Gosling who likewise turns to a life of crime to support his family. Both men are forced to grapple with the same question: How far can you stray from your moral compass before admitting you’re not the person you wanted to be?

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It’s an especially difficult conundrum for Jeffrey. He’s supremely skilled at the breaking-and-entering aspect of being a criminal, but too nice to the employees of whichever McDonald’s or Blockbuster he’s robbing to fully commit to the inherent violence of his vocation. How we think of ourselves and how the world sees us are often two drastically different images, a disparity that has created myriad existential crises both on and offscreen. Jeffrey’s attempt to reconcile those two conceptions of himself might not be one to emulate, Roofman makes it exceedingly difficult to condemn him for it.