THE STORY – A gifted piano tuner’s meticulous skills for tuning pianos lead him to discover an unexpected aptitude for cracking safes, turning his life upside down.
THE CAST – Leo Woodall, Dustin Hoffman, Havana Rose Liu, Lior Raz & Tovah Feldshuh
THE TEAM – Daniel Roher (Director/Writer) & Robert Ramsey (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes
Daniel Roher, the Oscar-winning documentarian behind “Navalny,” “Blink,” and “Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and the Band,” makes his narrative feature debut with “Tuner.” It’s a stylish blend of drama, romance, and heist thriller, signaling to the world that Roher is the real deal behind the camera, no matter what story he wants to tell or how he wants to tell it. It’s a film as perfectly calibrated as its protagonist’s ear, though not without a few discordant notes in its final act.
At the center of the story is Niki White (Leo Woodall), a once-gifted pianist whose career was cut short by hyperacusis, a condition that makes ordinary sounds unbearably loud. What could have been a curse becomes an unusual blessing: Niki’s heightened auditory perception makes him an invaluable piano tuner, working alongside his mentor Harry Horowitz (a foul-mouthed but delightfully warm Dustin Hoffman) across New York. Their bond resembles that of an uncle and nephew, with Hoffman’s old-school stubbornness (he hasn’t raised his rates in three decades despite mounting debts) contrasting with Woodall’s withdrawn but dominating presence.
Roher, co-writing with Robert Ramsey, leans into the tactile pleasures of Niki’s work. Snappy editing punctuates scenes of tuning, accompanied by insert shots of strings and hammers, while jazz riffs liven up the rhythm. “Tuning a piano is like creating harmony out of chaos,” Harry insists, a mantra that comes to define the film’s larger themes. But tuning isn’t the only thing Niki can do with his ear. After stumbling across a late-night safecracking attempt in a wealthy client’s home, he impulsively helps the criminals break it open, realizing that his ability to feel and hear micro-shifts in tone makes him just as adept with locks as with Steinways. Soon, the crooks dub him “Tuner,” and his life spirals into dangerous territory.
Roher stages these safecracking sequences with playful energy, making “Tuner” a very effortless watch. The montages, aided by time-lapses and precise sound design, echo Niki’s internal process, building suspense out of the click of tumblers and the faintest vibrations. The editing finds a comedic pulse in these tense moments, underscoring the absurdity of someone who once studied Chopin and now has to watch a YouTube tutorial to master his first crack while hunched over a steel vault.
Many may show up for Hoffman, but it’s Woodall who carries the film with a performance equal parts brooding and vulnerable. His chemistry with Havana Rose Liu, as Ruthie, a composition student he meets while tuning her piano, is warm and unforced. Their connection becomes the emotional pull of the film, and Niki’s new ambitions clash with Ruthie’s especially her desire to want to work with maestro composer (Jean Reno). In quieter scenes, Woodall captures Niki’s fragile psyche, whispering, “It’s not about hearing, it’s about a feeling,” as he struggles to redefine who he is without his piano career and spiraling into a new job that he knows is wrong but is providing him with quick access to wealth and the possibility of a new life. The supporting cast shines as well. Hoffman grounds the film with wry humor and gravitas (though I wish he had more screen time), while Tovah Feldshuh adds bite to her brief scenes, and Lior Raz brings a substantial threat to the underworld figures who pull Niki deeper into crime.
Above all, Tuner is an auditory experience. Roher and his sound team, including music producer Marius de Vries and Oscar-winning sound designer Johnnie Burn (“The Zone of Interest“), craft an immersive soundscape that allows the audience to feel Niki’s sensitivity. Burn’s work on this film is quite extraordinary, evoking similar sensations to those felt while watching something like “Sound Of Metal.” The film shifts between hushed silences and overwhelming blasts of noise, simulating Niki’s condition in ways that are both soothing and exhilarating, yet also punishing.
Yet, for all its craft and likable performances, “Tuner” falters in its contrived third act. The narrative, which strikes the right balance between romance, comedy, and thriller in its first two-thirds, leans on overly familiar crime beats and a particular reveal choice that feels out of melody with the film’s earlier inventiveness. Still, the momentum and emotional investment Roher builds carry it through to a pitch-perfect climactic scene that ends the movie on a high note and feels ideally suited to conclude Niki’s journey.
Ultimately, “Tuner” is a film about sound, silence, and rediscovering who you are. It’s about the terror of losing what defines you, and the strange, unexpected ways life can offer a new shot for those who feel they already missed it. With a star-making turn from Leo Woodall, solid support from Hoffman and Liu, and Roher’s confident leap into narrative filmmaking, it’s an intriguing debut that suggests Roher will hopefully be giving us even more finely tuned pieces in the future.
