Tuner: A Cinematic Odyssey Through Sound and Sensibility
Few directors of documentaries have ever made such a striking transition to dramatic films as Daniel Roher, the director of Tuner. An Oscar winner just a few years ago for Navalny, Roher has now crafted an engaging mix of character study and suspense caper. Well received in Telluride and Toronto last year, the movie should find an appreciative audience in theaters and beyond. In addition, it is sure to push leading man Leo Woodall (https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/t/leo-woodall/) into the rare coterie of charismatic heartthrobs who also happen to be superlative actors.
Woodall plays Niki, a piano tuner who has worked as an apprentice to a veteran in the field, warmly portrayed by Dustin Hoffman (https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/t/dustin-hoffman/). Niki has a hearing problem (mainly a sensitivity to loud noises) that jettisoned his own career as a pianist, but this malady has made him adept at hearing the slightest defect in piano keys. Although Hoffman’s Harry has the contacts, Niki has the gift that makes him invaluable.
Tuner is a story that feels both intimately human and urgently urgent. It’s not just about a man trying to make a living, but about the way we’re all wired to listen—whether to music, to danger, or to the world around us. Roher’s script, co-written with Robert Ramsey, is a masterclass in balancing tension with tenderness. When Niki runs into a band of minor crooks, it turns out that his hearing issues have lent him another gift as a safecracker. Whether there is really a correlation between these two occupations may be left for experts to decide, but the script by Roher and Ramsey convinces us that Niki is a damaged man with many hidden talents.
During the course of his work, he also encounters a gifted young composer and pianist, Ruthie, played by Havana Rose Liu, and Harry encourages their romance. When Harry is hospitalized with a serious illness, Harry’s wife (superbly played by Tovah Feldshuh (https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/t/tovah-feldshuh/) ) announces that Harry’s lack of business acumen has left him with no funds to pay his medical bills. So Niki decides to contact the criminal safecrackers to make the money that Harry desperately needs.
There is a touch of sentimentality in the portrayal of Niki as a generous soul without any desire of his own for a major payday. But Woodall is so effortlessly charismatic and sensitive that we accept his inherent decency without major questions. The British-born Woodall has acted on several television series (including the second season of The White Lotus) and had memorable supporting parts in the latest Bridget Jones installment, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, and in Nuremberg. This is the first time he has had to carry an entire movie, and he proves more than equal to the task. The scenes in which Niki reveals his hypersensitivity to loud noises — as when Ruthie inadvertently forgets to turn off an oven that screeches fiercely — are extraordinarily effective. Kudos to the sound designer, Johnnie Burn, for his crucial contribution. The score by Will Bates also helps to propel the action.
Perhaps the plot gets a bit overly convoluted, with a couple of rival gangs of crooks threatening Niki, and a late but vibrant appearance by Jean Reno as a classical music maestro in search of a missing watch lost during the Holocaust. Another memorable cameo appearance comes from Herbie Hancock (playing himself) as one of the people who benefited from Harry’s tuning expertise in the past.
Roher’s directorial skill shows in his making the most of even brief but telling scenes with all these actors. Feldshuh is especially vibrant in convincing us of her character’s shrewdness as well as her solicitousness for both Harry and Niki. Aided by Greg O’Bryant’s editing, the film races toward its satisfying conclusion, though one might criticize Roher for a tendency toward slickness that occasionally undercuts the serious underpinnings of the story.
But there are no flaws in Woodall’s performance. If this movie does not catapult him to starring ranks, then there are few remaining certainties in today’s cinematic landscape.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Roher uses the film’s premise to explore the intersection of art and survival. Niki’s ability to hear the world’s imperfections mirrors our own capacity to perceive the subtle beauty in life’s chaos. The film isn’t just about a man’s journey—it’s a meditation on what it means to be human, to be vulnerable, and to find purpose in a world that often demands us to be silent. For fans of character-driven storytelling, Tuner is a revelation. For those who crave a little more edge, it’s a reminder that even the most mundane skills can become weapons. And for anyone who’s ever felt like their unique perspective was overlooked, it’s a powerful call to embrace your gifts, even when they’re hidden beneath the noise.
In my opinion, Tuner is a testament to the power of storytelling that doesn’t just entertain but challenges us to listen. It’s a film that asks us to consider how we define success—and whether the path we take is truly our own. As the credits roll, I’m left wondering: What kind of world will we create if we stop listening to the stories that shape us?
