Based on a story almost too bizarre to believe, Derek Cianfrance’s Roofman follows Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum), a former Army Ranger and struggling father whose descent into crime earns him an unforgettable nickname. After escaping prison, he famously hides inside a Toys “R” Us for six months, all while planning his next move. But his carefully managed double life unravels when he falls for Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), a divorced mother who sees something in him worth loving.

Cianfrance, known for Blue Valentine and The Place Beyond the Pines, has always been fascinated by flawed characters and the ripple effects of their choices. Here, though, he adopts a slightly lighter, more playful touch. While Roofman never fully escapes the conventions of the true-crime drama, it’s imbued with a surprising tenderness — a portrait of a criminal defined less by his misdeeds than by his charm, contradictions, and yearning for connection.

That portrait rests heavily on Channing Tatum, who gives what may be the most complete performance of his career. He captures Manchester’s contradictions — a man who can MacGyver his way into a McDonald’s rooftop yet shows very little common sense in his personal life — with warmth and humor. His turn is at once earnest, funny, and sad, making it easy to root for a character whose actions are otherwise indefensible. It’s the rare role that fully shifts the perception of an actor: Tatum proves here he’s more than just comedic relief or an action star.

Kirsten Dunst balances the film with grounded humanity, and her chemistry with Tatum creates the movie’s most memorable scenes. Their relationship develops with surprising tenderness, giving Roofman its emotional core. The supporting cast — including Ben Mendelsohn, LaKeith Stanfield, Uzo Aduba, and Peter Dinklage — add texture, though many are underused, hinting at a richer story that the script never fully commits to exploring.

And that’s where the cracks begin to show. While the premise is irresistible, the screenplay struggles with narrative weight. The film occasionally glosses over Manchester’s crimes, softening him to the point that his geniality feels like an excuse. At times, the story stumbles in pacing and fails to build the tension one might expect from a cat-and-mouse thriller. Instead, Roofman settles into a safer, more conventional rhythm — which, depending on perspective, may be either its weakness or its charm.

Still, there’s no denying the film’s entertainment value. With its mix of laughs, tears, and nostalgic nods to early-2000s America, Roofman is never less than watchable. Cianfrance delivers a stranger-than-fiction tale with empathy, warmth, and just enough whimsy to make it stand out from a crowded field of true-crime adaptations.

Roofman opens only in theatres October 10.