‘Roofman’ review: Tatum, Dunst flirt through true-life crime movie

Starring Channing Tatum as a tender-souled criminal who falls for Kirsten Dunst’s divorced mom, “Roofman” is a good time planned by a party pooper. That’s not necessarily a bad thing — in fact, it keeps you on your toes. But it does mean that Derek Cianfrance’s version of a bad-boy romance will feature more tears and jolts than the genre typically calls for, and more goofy humor than you might expect from the director behind gut-scooping adult dramas as “Blue Valentine.”

It’s based on a true story from the late ’90s and when you’re inclined to think certain elements were invented, end-crawl news footage and interviews reinforce that stranger-than-fiction adage. Indeed, Jeffrey Manchester (Tatum) really was a rootless ex-military dad who, spurred by an Army pal (a droll LaKeith Stanfield) to apply his considerable survival skills toward getting his life together, opted to provide for his kids by breaking into McDonald’s restaurants — 45 in all, his method of entry earning him the titular nickname.

Cianfrance, who wrote the screenplay with Kirt Gunn, asserts his approach to this material during the opening stickup. The fast-food employees look as realistically stricken as you’d expect facing a masked hulk wielding a rifle, herding them into the freezer. But Jeffrey, clearly fighting what a soft touch he is, gives the shivering manager his coat. Tatum is ideal casting because his size is serious, his movements intentional, but those eyes, that voice — is that your heart being pilfered along with all that cash?

And yet Jeffrey is caught — at his kid’s loot-financed birthday party, no less — and sentenced. But, as we charmingly discover, even the long arm of the law sometimes can’t touch your reputation. Also undeniably adorable in a wanted man: craftily turning a Toys “R” Us into a hideout. Jeffrey secretly commandeers an enclosed space behind a massive display, using baby monitors to keep tabs on the store’s operations and, when alone, acts like the big kid that’s admittedly gotten him to this strange corner in life.

But when he observes how the manager (a pitch-perfect Peter Dinklage) acts dismissively toward Leigh (Dunst), a single mom who just wants an easier schedule and toys for her church drive, Jeffrey’s nice-guy impulses bring him into the open. A stolen-toy donation for Leigh’s church leads to flirting, a date, then a relationship and eventually a test of how far a charming rogue’s risky deception can last in untenable circumstances.

Cianfrance shows a gratifying nimbleness with the lighthearted parts of this working-class fable, giving Tatum plenty of room to be lovable, whether trying to win over Leigh’s daughters (the older, surlier one played by breakout star Lily Collias of “Good One”) or, in a nicely farcical bit, narrowly avoiding capture in the nude. Dunst, a perfect chemistry match with Tatum’s full-court charisma, is her own beaming yet grounded energy source. “Roofman” plays like an indie drama photobombing a studio rom-com.

The movie is too baggy to accommodate both good vibes and more urgent crime-movie realities. At times, depth is sacrificed for cutes, characters seem superfluous (like Ben Mendelsohn and Uzo Aduba as cheery church leaders) and some scenes fall flat. But Cianfrance has always operated by feel and faith that dialing into his actors will unearth truths about bad choices and good hearts. “Roofman,” with its breezy decency, knows how to finesse just the right amount of compassion for larceny.

Starring Channing Tatum as a tender-souled criminal who falls for Kirsten Dunst’s divorced mom, “Roofman” is a good time planned by a party pooper. That’s not necessarily a bad thing — in fact, it keeps you on your toes. But it does mean that Derek Cianfrance’s version of a bad-boy romance will feature more tears and jolts than the genre typically calls for, and more goofy humor than you might expect from the director behind gut-scooping adult dramas as “Blue Valentine.”

It’s based on a true story from the late ’90s and when you’re inclined to think certain elements were invented, end-crawl news footage and interviews reinforce that stranger-than-fiction adage. Indeed, Jeffrey Manchester (Tatum) really was a rootless ex-military dad who, spurred by an Army pal (a droll LaKeith Stanfield) to apply his considerable survival skills toward getting his life together, opted to provide for his kids by breaking into McDonald’s restaurants — 45 in all, his method of entry earning him the titular nickname.

Cianfrance, who wrote the screenplay with Kirt Gunn, asserts his approach to this material during the opening stickup. The fast-food employees look as realistically stricken as you’d expect facing a masked hulk wielding a rifle, herding them into the freezer. But Jeffrey, clearly fighting what a soft touch he is, gives the shivering manager his coat. Tatum is ideal casting because his size is serious, his movements intentional, but those eyes, that voice — is that your heart being pilfered along with all that cash?

And yet Jeffrey is caught — at his kid’s loot-financed birthday party, no less — and sentenced. But, as we charmingly discover, even the long arm of the law sometimes can’t touch your reputation. Also undeniably adorable in a wanted man: craftily turning a Toys “R” Us into a hideout. Jeffrey secretly commandeers an enclosed space behind a massive display, using baby monitors to keep tabs on the store’s operations and, when alone, acts like the big kid that’s admittedly gotten him to this strange corner in life.

But when he observes how the manager (a pitch-perfect Peter Dinklage) acts dismissively toward Leigh (Dunst), a single mom who just wants an easier schedule and toys for her church drive, Jeffrey’s nice-guy impulses bring him into the open. A stolen-toy donation for Leigh’s church leads to flirting, a date, then a relationship and eventually a test of how far a charming rogue’s risky deception can last in untenable circumstances.

Cianfrance shows a gratifying nimbleness with the lighthearted parts of this working-class fable, giving Tatum plenty of room to be lovable, whether trying to win over Leigh’s daughters (the older, surlier one played by breakout star Lily Collias of “Good One”) or, in a nicely farcical bit, narrowly avoiding capture in the nude. Dunst, a perfect chemistry match with Tatum’s full-court charisma, is her own beaming yet grounded energy source. “Roofman” plays like an indie drama photobombing a studio rom-com.

The movie is too baggy to accommodate both good vibes and more urgent crime-movie realities. At times, depth is sacrificed for cutes, characters seem superfluous (like Ben Mendelsohn and Uzo Aduba as cheery church leaders) and some scenes fall flat. But Cianfrance has always operated by feel and faith that dialing into his actors will unearth truths about bad choices and good hearts. “Roofman,” with its breezy decency, knows how to finesse just the right amount of compassion for larceny.