One of the great things about covering Sundance is stumbling onto a small film that hits the right beats by blending familiar genres in unexpected ways. Tuner, the narrative debut from Sundance alum and Oscar winner Daniel Roher, fits comfortably into that tradition.
The film opens on a modest trade and a fraying partnership. Harry (Dustin Hoffman), a veteran piano tuner whose ear has outlasted his prospects, runs a business that’s barely staying upright. At his side is Niki (Leo Woodall), a devoted apprentice—part assistant, part surrogate son—whose loyalty keeps the enterprise going even as its future grows increasingly uncertain.
Niki is a former piano prodigy who lost part of his hearing, yet remains remarkably skilled at tuning and repairing instruments. When Harry suddenly falls ill, Niki decides to keep the business afloat on his own. Through a twist of fate, he discovers that his hearing impairment gives him an unexpected edge: the ability to crack safes. That talent brings him into the orbit of Uri (Lior Raz), a criminal eager to exploit Niki’s skill set for his own gain. With Harry’s medical bills mounting, Niki reluctantly joins Uri’s crew. Complicating matters further is his growing relationship with Ruthie (Havana Rose Liu), a driven composition student whose presence forces him to confront the risk of his double life—and the possibility that his carefully separated worlds might collide.
As I’ve grown more seasoned in my film criticism, I’ve made a habit of avoiding trailers. Tuner wasn’t on my radar heading into the festival, and I mainly attended as a fan of Dustin Hoffman. Roher’s script initially leans into Hoffman’s well-worn senior-citizen charm, particularly in the early comedic exchanges between Harry and Niki, and those moments work precisely because they feel unforced.
Leo Woodall was largely unfamiliar to me going in, but I quickly found myself rooting for his character. He gives Niki an everyman quality, never playing his musicianship with arrogance or leaning on his disability as a narrative crutch. The character’s quiet decency grounds the film, even as the plot veers into riskier territory.
The emotional center of Tuner lies in Niki’s scenes with Ruthie. Havana Rose Liu elevates what could have been a stock role, imbuing Ruthie with ambition and restraint while allowing genuine vulnerability to surface. I appreciated that the script resists taking their relationship down a “Sound of Metal”-style path, opting instead for something gentler and more understated.
Where the film faltered slightly for me was in its criminal subplot. Uri and his crew feel closer to familiar genre caricatures than fully realized threats. While I don’t mind a well-worn crime framework—and Roher could have easily pushed the film toward a “Blow Out”-style homage—I found myself far more invested in the romance and character work, wishing the film had stayed lighter and more focused on those elements.
Still, strong performances, a confident pace, and a well-utilized score carry Tuner across the finish line. Even with its stumbles, the film stands as a promising and assured narrative directorial debut for Daniel Roher, one anchored by an unexpected warmth and an apparent affection for its characters.
Tuner gets a limited theatrical release on May 22nd, with an expansion one week later.
