Channing Tatum – The Magnificent 60s

Roofman (2025) **

This sounds like one of those scams you’re always reading about. Too-good-to-be-true handsome hunk Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum) arrives in the life of struggling single mom Leigh (Kirsten Dunst). Only difference is he’s not ripping her off for cash, but demolishing her emotions and the faith in goodness of her two innocent kids, Jade (Kirana Kulic) and Joselyn (Gabriella Cila).

Another movie glorifying some dude you’ve never heard of, just because, at least in the movie version, he’s cute to the point of goofyness and for some reason has been left behind by society. And like Smashing Machine (2025), there’s virtually no narrative to hang onto or even that makes sense, beyond the delusion inflicted on the God-fearing family who can’t see past the armloads of gifts and fall too easily for the notion that’s he’s some kind of undercover government agent.

Maybe you can live for six months on peanut M&Ms, great piece of promotion for M&Ms should that be the case, and maybe the manager, Mitch (Peter Dinklage), of the Toys’R’Us store you’re hiding out in is so dumb he doesn’t realize boxes and boxes of the stuff is leaving the store without registering on his till. Or that his store is also being looted of all its computer game inventory.

And it’s true that Jeffrey has an unusual set of skills, and that if he stopped stealing for a moment and found an ordinary job anywhere someone would soon cotton on the fact that he’s a walking encyclopedia of observation and surely it wouldn’t be long before he could bring added-value to any business simply by pointing out such facts.

You could start off with the fact that he’s found a weak spot in the security of most businesses. Most stores have ample security at the front, but nobody’s given a thought to how accessible they might be from the roof for a guy armed with little more than a hammer.

But, wait, Jeffrey isn’t a bad guy’s bad guy, he’d be rejected by the likes of Martin Scorsese, he’s only turning to crime because he can’t afford to buy a bike for his kid. So bringing those observation skills to the fore, he works out that McDonalds is relatively easy prey and before he’s caught he’s collected tens of thousands of dollars in his own version of Happy Meals.

In prison he turns once more to his specific set of skills and in the only interesting scene in the entire picture escapes through an ingenious method, then holes up in a Toys’R’Us where he constructs a little hidey-hole, switches off the security alarms (another set of skills), and comes out to play every night when the store is closed.

Mitch is a hardass and makes life hard for that nice single mom Leigh so Jeffrey intervenes and amends her work schedule to better suit her domestic life. And when Mitch refuses to pony up with a donation for the toy charity event she’s hosting at the local church, Jeffrey steps in.

You wouldn’t know it but these little churches are packed full of single moms just gagging for it. No sooner has Leigh coaxed our hero out on a date than she’s having first-date sex and then, armed with armfuls of gifts, he’s pretty much invading the home, younger daughter delighted with his attention, older daughter a tougher nut to crack.

Are you still interested? I wasn’t. I sat there like a member of the famed Disgruntled Audience, wondering what made anyone imagine this no-story story was worth a good two hours of my time.

So criminals are actually ordinary guys at heart, wanting a home life like the rest of us, and not all going around abusing their wives or beating up on their kids of sitting home stoned?

That’s about as much insight as we’re going to get as long as we (the audience) go in for the delusion that it’s somehow going to have a happy ending.

I’m reminded of the Richard Pryor character in one of the Superman pictures who, despite some genius, was so dumb he was always going to get caught and couldn’t think of a single way outside of criminality to find a home for his set of special skills.

Sure, Channing Tatum (Blink Twice, 2024) is watchable but soon wears out his welcome in a tale that doesn’t go anywhere fast and Kirsten Dunst’s (Civil War, 2024) character has some surprising aspects. But really?

Derek Cianfrance has a decent track record for interesting drama – Blue Valentine (2010), The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) and The Light Between Oceans (2026) – but this is a serious miscalculation of audience endurance. Kirt Gunn (Lovely By Surprise, 2007) wrote it.

Dud.

Blink Twice (2024) ** – Seen at the Cinema

Makes one good point about sexual abuse but takes forever to make it. Undone by two bizarre twists at the end and being more arthouse than horror, though that’s been a something of an annoying trend. And way too many cameos. Christian Slater (True Romance, 1993) is easy to spot. But, wait, is that Haley Joel Osment (The Sixth Sense, 1999) hiding behind that bushy beard? And Geena Davis (Thelma and Louise, 1991) as the klutzy personal assistant forever dropping bright red gift bags? And an immaculately spruced Kyle McLachlan (Dune, 1984)?

Buddies, for all I know, of star Channing Tatum, losing all the brownie points he accumulated for his cameo in Deadpool and Wolverine (2024) – although as with that picture he might just be showing an unwelcome predilection for the unintelligible. Or they could all be, out of the goodness of their hearts, just helping out novice director Zoe Kravitz. In general critics have been kind, possibly because it’s a movie debut, but more likely because the movie makes a point that sexually abused women and/or the victims of domestic abuse are likely to suppress or deliberately forget their experiences for the sake of keeping their relationship on an even keel or fear of not finding another.

It Ends With Us (2024) covered the same ground but at least took the trouble to fill it with properly-drawn characters. It’s not just that these people are ciphers and the set-up is fairy tale – poor woman meets billionaire who whisks her away to the holiday of a lifetime on a luxury exotic island – but that ordinary logic doesn’t seem to apply. I don’t mean the kind of logic required to cover up holes in the plot. But really standard stuff. Like, as one of my readers pointed out of Trap (2024), would the cops really set out to ensnare a serial killer in a concert hall packed with teenage kids?

Here, the flaw is simpler. Would women decide not to communicate? Would, they, beyond a shallow surface skein, just not want to know everything about the lives of the women they meet on this island or, alternatively, can’t wait to bore them to death with every detail of their own lives. And if they are so sedated, what’s the drug that manages to switch off that chatterbox tendency because, forgive this sexist notion, you could make a fortune selling it.

So, rather than go to all the bother of writing real characters, we are not so much in blink twice territory as rinse-and-repeat. We are shown endless episodes of the same scene, women in billowing white Greek-style gowns running across the lawn, raspberries being popped into fizzing champagne glasses, some nutjob raving on about the exquisite meals.

At the end of course you try to unravel it to discover the visual clues you assumed the director has dropped. But still you’ve no idea. Are these women all sedated by something in the raspberries, or by the flashbulb of the instamatic cameras, or the food, or by the bottles of scent left in every room? Maybe’s there’s something in the swimming pool. Or could it be the supposed snake venom drained from local snakes by a housekeeper who takes the Channing Tatum approach to her lines so that her every word is unintelligible. The venom that has somehow been so cleverly diluted that although it looks like toilet cleaner that appears to be a selling point as does that it tastes so vile you need to mix it with tequila.

And is there really only one lighter in the place? That a magnificent house on a desert island replete with servants and everything you ever need has come up short on the one element essential to light up all the dope smokes in constant supply. But, wait, we need a sole lighter and some stuff about everyone stealing it from its owner so that said owner Jess (Alia Shawkat) has to write her name on it so when she goes missing that’s the only proof she was ever here.

So, when billionaire Slater (Channing Tatum) whisks off waitperson Frida (Naomi Ackie) to a desert island she discovers they’re not alone, they are accompanied by his assorted buddies of varying ages and an equally assorted bunch of women all young and all gorgeous. You expect them to pair off and Frida is somewhat disappointed, even in this age of consent requiring to be expressly given not assumed, to find Slater making no moves beyond some old-fashioned hand-holding and neck nibbling.

So after you are bored rigid with the endless insight into how rich people live – drinking champagne, smoking joints, inhaling or swallowing whatever, eating food cooked to within an inch of its life – eventually, and that eventually is a hell of a long time coming, Frida smells a rat.

Spoiler alert – unknown to them because Slater has invented a forgetting drug – at night time they are raped or tied up to a tree (presumably with silken cords that leave no mark) or beaten up (presumably with the bag of oranges from The Grifters, 1990, because beyond a rare bruise no physical traces are left) and the reason they race across the grass during the day is some memory blip because that’s what they do at night to escape their tormentors.

Anyway, spoiler alert, the women get to turn the tables on the men so it’s a slaughterhouse at the end, some clearly taking inspiration from The Equalizer (2014) and turning a bottle opener into a weapon, others making do with knife or gun or rock or whatever phallic object comes to hand.

Anyways, spoiler alert and big point, women treated badly always come back for more. In a bizarre twist, this is Frida’s second time on the island, and bereft on the miainland of whatever amnesiac drug they’re taking on the island, has managed to bury any memory of the experience although she must occasionally wonder how she got that scar on her temple. In an even stupider twist, instead of handing Slater over to the authorities, he’s somehow in her power and she controls his billions. Sweet revenge, apparently.

Clocks in at what felt like a bum-numbing epic length but turned out to be only just over 100 minutes. However, if you had trimmed the arthouse excess you’d scarcely have enough to cobble together a television episode.

Seems to me there was quite a good drama in there somewhere revolving around Frida and Jess about having some fun while making ends meet – their East-West routine scores points – but that didn’t fly with the studios so the two engaging stars were thrown into this heavy-handed horror.

Makes a point. But once would be enough, thanks.

Deadpool and Wolverine (2024) **** – Seen at the Cinema

Count me in. The buddy movie reinvented, the MCU legend trashed, all set in the ideal MCU location, The Void (worthy of two capital letters, I guess), the place where long-forgetten Marvel characters from the pre-Disney multiverse hang out, and it’s a fun ride. Whether of course this proves the death knell for the MCU after so much fan backlash and poor reviews remains to be seen. Next weekend’s box office will decide its fate one way or another.

But who the hell cares? If this is the extinction of the MCU, as some predict, then it is going out with a bang, a crazy superhero mash-up where you need to keep an MCU dictionary to hand so you can work who’s going to turn up next. Wesley Snipes, not seen in that Blade badass rig since 2004, and it’s not Capt America but Chris Evans’ earlier incarnation of Johnny Storm not seen since 2007, and there’s Channing Tatum as a character Gambit whose stand-alone picture never materialized, despite scoring highly in animated form.

Anything that MCU got wrong or was criticized for – the multiverse and the varying timelines – turn up here as plot. The “sacred time lime” is almost a character in itself and if you ever wanted to invent the most ideal/ironic MCU character, who else would that be but Mr Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen)?

The entire storyline is so off-the-wall that you’d think it’s never going to work but then when Deadpool’s around walls are toys, especially the fourth wall, that magical trick of speaking direct to the camera. And it’s Deadpool and his continual wisecrack commentary on proceedings that turns what could be a s**tshow into a hoot.

But some of the twists transform what could be another deathly routine of superheroes saving the universe (yawn, what again?) into something more human. Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) only wants to save his own tiny universe of half a dozen people, everyone who matters to him, and not a gazillion others. Somehow he teams up with the previously deceased Logan a.k.a. (in case you don’t have your MCU Dictionary handy) Wolverine to revive the moribund buddy movie, the best kickass bickering pair since Mel Gibson and Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon.

Or whatever. Anyway, they find themselves in The Void doing battle with that sweet Charles Xavier guy’s nasty twin sister Cassandra Nova (Emma Corrin). And, yes, there’s still so much jiggering about with time that you’d think the Time Bandits or Doctor Who would be claiming copyright infringement. And sometimes you can almost hear the clack of the typewriter as the screenwriter tries to fix that last loose end.

But, as I said, whenever the going gets tough – especially when the going gets tough – you can depend on Deadpool’s motormouth to see the narrative through. Deadpool and Wolverine do make a great screen team, ideal opposites, growl vs grit, class vs. sass, and really you could just junk the narrative – or come up with an entirely different one – and still this picture would work because the two principles set the screen alight.

This is akin to when Guardians of the Galaxy ripped up the MCU playbook a decade ago and influenced every movie thereafter. The guess now is whether Deadpool and Wolverine will take MCU down a new stylistic avenue or whether this is a deliberate cul de sac. I’d guess not, since it’s going to be such a money-spinner, and I could see this pair worming their way into the new Avengers team to brighten up whatever doom-laden occasion is heading our way.

Maybe the MCU is giving the finger to the fanboys, hoping to attract a wider audience rather than pandering to an audience that seemed to have made up its mind about everything way in advance and wasn’t inclined to go along with any MCU experiment, feint or development. The audience I saw it with were clearly of mixed opinion, some feeling betrayed or at the very least insulted.

But I have a good bit less invested in the MCU. It takes me all my time to keep up with who’s who in this expanding universe. So treating this picture on its own merits, I thought it generated more than its fair share of laughs, and not always rude ones, although anyone with a woke inclination would be advised to steer clear.

Shawn Levy (Free Guy, 2021) directed.

Make up your own mind.

The Lost City (2022) *** – Seen at the Cinema

I was wondering when Brad Pitt would show up. Judging from the trailer it would be close to the end when he leaps, long hair blowing wild, to save the day. I didn’t expect him to show up almost right from the start. Nor, I have to say, that before the halfway mark – SPOILER ALERT – his brains would be splattered all over Channing Taum’s face. For me, in that one scene, the film never recovered, despite a bizarre post-credit sequence where it transpired that Pitt had in fact survived having his brains blown out all over Tatum’s face.

But let’s recap. Grieving widow romantic novelist Loretta (Sandra Bullock) whose fans prefer muscular cover model Alan Chaning Tatum) is kidnapped by over-the-top nutjob Abigail (yep!) Fairfax (Daniel Ratcliffe) to recover lost treasure from an island in the middle of nowhere. Alan, assuming that he must act like her fictional hero Dash, enlists Jack Trainer (Brad Pitt) to rescue her. Pitt, having lost none of the athleticism he displayed in Troy (2004), does just that but in the course of the escape – SPOILER ALERT AGAIN – he gets his brains splattered out.

Neither Loretta and Alan are really cut out for escapist adventure and spend most of the time making a hash of it, which is a nice twist on the genre. There’s not really enough chemistry between Bullock and Tatum, both playing personas we’ve seen before. There’s some cute stuff, snuggling up in a hammock, Alan discovering some survival skills and eventually she stops her endless whining and springs into proper heroine mode and the climax includes a romantic surprise when she finally decodes the meaning of the archaeological mystery. But the idea of him being allergic to water seems extreme and it makes even less sense – except as an excuse to show his bum and make a lame joke about the size of his manhood – for him to be only one covered in leeches.

But we hardly need a volcano simmering in the background especially as those special effects are poor. The idea of a deadline for this lackadaisical pair is a joke and reeks of writers struggling for a third act. Without the impending explosion Pitt could just have suffered a broken leg and been left behind; if he miraculously appeared for the coda in crutches that would have been perfectly acceptable, his superhuman skills already demonstrated. And there’s only so much humor you can stretch out of stretching a flimsy dress. And especially idiotic is that they require pushy agent Beth (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) to come to the rescue – the ending is singularly poorly worked-out unlike Uncharted where it all made logical sense. The problem is that everyone in his picture is just dumb without enough of the dumb and dumber-ness to make it an effective comedy.

The surprising part is that with all these misfiring elements and setting aside the brain-splatter the movie works well enough. There’s none of the personality clash – both irritate the other rather than hate them – that marked out Romancing the Stone (1984) and there’s not really enough derring-do but generally it jigs along and both Tatum and Bullock have strong enough fan bases. There’s a determinedly feel-good factor at play.

In particular it’s a welcome return to the big screen for Sandra Bullock (The Heat, 2013) who has somewhat ill-advisedly become the Netflix Queen. A movie star for nearly 30 years she has been very adept at choosing roles and switching her screen persona and her brand of awkward/prickly geek still works. Channing Tatum (Dog, 2022) always plays against his physique, strong but vulnerable and here he adds caring to the formula. Daniel Ratcliffe (Escape from Pretoria, 2020) doesn’t do much more than rant and look manic – Harry Potter in a hissy fit.

Could easily be renamed Search for a Lost Genre as the rom-com struggles to provide partnerships to match Richard Gere-Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan and no one has come close to repeating the legendary Tracy-Hepburn dynamic. And while we’re at it, I’m not sure by what authority Loretta concludes that (beyond a swipe at Indiana Jones) snakes have no logical place in ancient tombs.

Despite my nitpicking, they do make a good team and it’s enjoyable enough.