It seems like an odd time of year to release a movie like Roofman. We're in the middle of spooky season, and getting towards the end of the year, when all the real Oscar hopefuls tend to get their theatrical runs. Roofman fits into neither of those categories. Instead, it's a pleasant enough romantic crime comedy, the kind that makes you smile more than it makes you laugh.
Based on a true story, Channing Tatum stars as Jeffrey Manchester, a serial thief who breaks into a series of McDonald's restaurants by chopping holes in their roofs, locking the staff in the cooler - though not before making sure they all have their coats on - and stealing from the safe. He is ostensibly doing this to support his wife and three kids, but once he's arrested and jailed, they break ties with him. Upon escaping from prison, he hides out in a Toys R Us, and eventually develops a romantic relationship with Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), an employee who has no idea who he really is.
Channing Tatum is quite good as Manchester, able to meet both the emotional and physical aspects of the part - he's a guy living in a toy store, so of course there are scenes of him kicking balls around, crawling around to remain undetected, and bashing Tickle Me Elmos in rage. But he also has to garner audience sympathy since he is ultimately a guy who, in the course of multiple armed robberies, threatened the lives dozens of people, even if his goal every time was to avoid any physical harm.
Dunst plays well against him as a single mom charmed by this mysterious stranger. And thankfully, she never comes off as naive or desperate for believing everything he tells her about his life. She's just a good person who chooses to believe in the good in others. The last third or so of the film takes place during Christmas, which is really when it should have been released. I can easily see this becoming one of those unoffensive cinematic diversions you put on during the holidays when trying to find something the entire family can enjoy.
The documentary John Candy: I Like Me, now streaming on Prime Video, looks at the life and career of the comedic actor probably best know for his roles in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles and Uncle Buck, though I first became familiar with him as a kid watching syndicated re-runs of SCTV. And I will never forget seeing the opening of the sketch below for the first time; it cracks me up to this day.
I bring this up because it's somewhat unfathomable to me that there may be people out there who are not familiar with John Candy or his career, and I suppose one goal of this doc is to rectify that a bit. Which is why I was a little disappointed that there weren't more extended clips from his TV and movie work illustrating just how hilarious he was.
The bulk of the documentary features interviews with his children, his widow, and those who worked with him, and they all paint him as a very kind and lovable man. (Bill Murray opens the film trying to think of one bad thing to say about Candy, and comes up short.) But he was also a man who faced terrible trauma as a child - his father died at the age 35 from a heart attack, ON Candy's fifth birthday - and it's clear he never fully came to terms with that.
There are also plenty of clips from TV interviews, the bulk of which feature interviewers commenting on Candy's size and weight, and those are pretty brutal to watch. Director Colin Hanks also chooses to open the film with Candy's death and funeral in 1994, then bounces back in time to his youth, while using a kind of countdown clock that ticks off the years, which just creates a sense of dread as those years get closer to 1994. It's a weird and off-putting gimmick. As a tribute to John Candy, the doc is fine. But as an in depth look into what made him special, it's lacking.
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