Based on a true story, Roofman (2025) brings together Channing Tatum and Kirsten Dunst in a quietly gripping drama about crime, isolation, and unexpected grace. Directed by Derek Cianfrance (Blue Valentine, The Place Beyond the Pines), the film follows Jeffrey Manchester, a former U.S. Army Reserve soldier whose unusual method of burglary (entering McDonald’s restaurants through their roofs) earns him the nickname “Roofman.”
After escaping from prison, Manchester hides inside a Toys “R” Us for months, constructing a secret life above the shelves of bikes and dolls. The story could have easily turned into a dark comedy or a stylised crime thriller. But Cianfrance takes a more human route, one that focuses less on the crime and more on the person underneath it.
Tatum plays Manchester with restrained depth. There’s no charm or bravado, just a man caught between guilt and survival. The moments inside the toy store, a place symbolizing innocence, become quietly poetic. Each night, as he walks among the shelves, there’s a sense of both absurdity and sadness. His hiding place is filled with the laughter of children during the day and silence at night, a contrast that powerfully captures the brokenness of a man disconnected from the world.
Then comes Leigh Wainscot, played with tenderness and quiet conviction by Kirsten Dunst. Leigh works at Toys “R” Us as a saleswoman and is a local church volunteer who helps coordinate a toy donation drive.
One of the film’s standout scenes comes when Leigh invites her rude manager, Mitch played by Peter Dinklage, to the toy drive at her church. Her tone is gentle, her invitation without pressure or pity. Mitch discourteously rejected her invitation in a sharp and defensive tone. But Leigh’s patience never wavers. She offers grace without naming it, a profound compassion that echoes the call to love without condition. It’s a small exchange, yet it holds the heart of the film.
This was all witnessed by Manchester, who was watching it all from his hiding place via a setup camera in the manager’s office. The next morning, Jeffrey collects some toys in a bag and rides to the church in an attempt to secretly help Leigh with her donation drive . While dropping it off, he gets pulled in by one of the church members where he comes face to face with Leigh for the first time. She esn’t yet know who he really is. But their brief encounters slowly builds into something meaningful. Leigh’s presence brings light to Manchester’s shadowed world, not through romance, but through the simple act of kindness.
As Manchester’s secret life begins to unravel, the story doesn’t head toward sensationalism. Instead, it moves inward towards reflection and consequence. When he’s finally arrested, the story could have ended there, but Roofman lingers a little longer, allowing space for something more redemptive. In the final act, Leigh visits him in prison. Their conversation is short and measured, but filled with weight. This simple act of presence brings to mind the spiritual mandate to visit those in bondage (Matthew 25:36). There’s no grand forgiveness scene, no sweeping music, no slow-motion reactions, just two people sharing a moment of understanding that feels like its own quiet miracle.
And this is where Roofman shifts from a crime story to something almost spiritual. Beneath the surface of guilt and consequence lies a meditation on grace. Leigh’s response to Manchester’s past reflects the kind of compassion we rarely see in mainstream cinema, one that doesn’t excuse wrongdoing but insists on seeing the humanity that remains.
The film offers a subtle echo of the Christian message: that grace doesn’t come because it’s deserved, but because it’s given. Leigh’s faith isn’t spoken about directly, but it’s evident in the way she moves through the world. Her compassion recalls the passage from 1 John 3:18: “Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” Through her quiet persistence, she embodies a faith that acts rather than preaches.
In a culture quick to condemn, Roofman offers a counter-story: that judgment is easy, but grace requires courage. It reminds us that faith is often lived out in small gestures, an invitation, a visit, a word spoken without judgment. Those moments may not make headlines, but they change hearts.
In September 2025 at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), Channing Tatum was presented with Tribute Performer Award for his role in Roofman. This honour is not a competitive award in the traditional sense, but rather a special, pre-announced recognition of his work and a key early indicator of awards-season momentum.
Roofman is available to watch now on Plex.
