Minor spoilers ahead.
"Roofman" is Derek Cianfrance's latest film, telling the stranger-than-fiction story of the criminal career of Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum), an ex-soldier who turns to burglary in the late '90s to make ends meet. He picks up the moniker "Roofman" because he robs fast food restaurants by cutting his way through the ceilings. Manchester is eventually incarcerated, escapes in 2004, and manages to secretly live in a Toys "R" Us while waiting for his friend Steve (La Keith Stanfield) to arrange a way out of the country. There, he falls in love with one of the employees, a single mother named Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), while doing his best to steer clear of her jerk of a manager, Mitch (Peter Dinklage).
I don't think this is the best movie that Channing Tatum has appeared in, but this is the best Channing Tatum movie. It's very easy to root for Jeffrey Manchester, because Tatum is so charming and so wholesome in the part. Manchester prioritizes making his loved ones happy, and does his best to make sure no one gets hurt during his robberies. He's also got a mind for figuring out systems and schedules that makes him an expert infiltrator. The trouble is that he's a big kid at heart, someone who doesn't really appreciate the deeper repercussions of his actions, or the harms that he can cause long term. His antics in the Toys "R" Us are a lot of fun, but there's deeper thematic stuff going on there. Living in a toy store sounds fun, but the reality of it hits Manchester pretty hard. And ultimately, "Roofman" is about him figuring out far, far too late that he doesn't have the temperament or the need for criminality, even though he's so good at it.
The movie runs a little long, but it's sweet and fairly heartwarming. "Roofman" is easily Derek Cianfrance's most accessible film - it's still got a very un-Hollywood ending, but it offers a lot of fun on the way there. The romance works, which surprised me, though I do wish that we could have gotten more of Kristen Dunst's side of the story. And special kudos go to Peter Dinklage, who I feel like I've been seeing everywhere this year, doing solid work playing that petty manager that everyone hates. However, the one thing that kept taking me out of the movie was some of the other casting choices. It was distracting how many of the actors I recognized in the minor roles, like Ben Mendelsohn as the local pastor, Uzo Aduba as his wife, Juno Temple as Steve's girlfriend, and Jimmy O. Yang showing up to sell Manchester a used car.
On to "If I Had Legs I'd Kick You." This one really caught me off guard, because all the marketing has been about Conan O'Brien having a supporting part, his first significant dramatic role. He's fine in the movie, but definitely not what "If I Had Legs" should be remembered for. This is the second film from director Mary Bronstein, about an overstressed, anxiety-riddled mother named Linda (Rose Byrne) who is taking care of a medically fragile young daughter (Delaney Quinn) with an eating disorder. Her husband (Christian Slater) is away for an extended period for work. The ceiling of their apartment has caved in, forcing Linda to relocate to a seedy hotel, run by a friendly superintendent, James (A$AP Rocky).
Conan O'Brien plays Linda's therapist, who is also a colleague, because Linda is also a therapist. So, it turns out that on top of all of Linda's problems, her job is to listen to other stressed out, anxious people all day and try to help them with their problems. It's no wonder that Linda starts to crack under the pressure. "If I Had Legs" feels similar to other paranoid thrillers like "Uncut Gems," but with a more heightened, subjective POV. Linda occasionally disassociates, staring into holes and voids where the blackness seems to temporarily mute all the chaos around her. "If I Had Legs" never gets to the level of surrealism of something like "Beau is Afraid," but there's definitely the same willingness to make the viewer viscerally uncomfortable by focusing on the most nerve-grating moments of the protagonist's life. There's also plenty of black humor.
What really stands out is the performance of Rose Byrne as a woman who is in the throes of failure and can't seem to stop making things worse. Maternal regret has become a more common subject in recent films like "The Lost Daughter," and Byrne embodies it wonderfully, layering on the reactive hostility, self-flagellating guilt, and endless frustration. Bronstein shows the world from Linda's POV as an endless series of escalating irritants and disruptions that simultaneously enrage her and deepen her self-loathing. It's difficult to watch, especially the subplot with one of Linda's patients, a new mother named Caroline (Danielle Macdonald), but I found it rewarding. I especially like the ending, which is a series of rug-pulls that finally bring us to an inevitable conclusion. I hope to see more from Bronstein soon.
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