One summer’s evening a piano tuner arrives for a job and is invited to help a gang crack into the homeowner’s safe. He had taught himself the art of breaking and entering safes by watching YouTube. His customers are the kind of wealthy New Yorkers who show their unplayed pianos next to the shallow end of an indoor pool and keep their watches in a safe. They also employ an elite security firm—which furnishes a gang of thieves with the perfect cover. “I protect the wealthiest homes in the state,” Uri, the boss, says. Niki, the tuner, is bemused. “The clients don’t notice when their stuff goes missing?” he asks. “A watch…?” another hood says. “They fire the cleaning lady. People with too much stuff doesn’t appreciate their stuff.”
“Tuner” (Black Bear), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse, is well-paced and intertwines several absorbing subplots. Niki, played by Leo Woodall, is apprentice to Harry Horowitz, an old-fashioned, opinionated New York notable who “hasn’t raised his prices in thirty years.” They have a solid book of work, because “pianos slip out of tune whether you touch them or not.” Harry is played by Dustin Hoffman, who looks as if he has never had so much fun in his life. “What do you want for lunch,” Niki asks. “I don’t want dementia,” Harry says. His physical-health woes provide for heaps of terrific scripting like this. The tuners respond in an unruffled way when customers treat them as just another trade. “Can you help me reset the wifi,” one asks. “The router’s not working.” Harry loses his key and asks Niki to smash the safe open. “It’s two inches of steel,” Niki says. “It’s not really smash-able.”
Several afternoons later Harry visits the doctor while Niki attends to a music-college job. “When the pianos aren’t pitched perfect everyone gets testy,” an administrator says. “Start with the main stage.” But a pianist is practising. “I booked the main stage, like, a week ago,” Ruthie, played by Havana Rose Liu, says. “How long is it going to take?” “Two hours,” Niki says, “maybe two and a half.” Ruthie discovers that Niki has perfect pitch, a useful skill for his role. Her tests become faster and more complex. “What’s this?” “E” “G” “C” “A-flat” “D-flat.” “Close your eyes,” Ruthie says, “you’re cheating.” He isn’t. “A, B” “C, F-sharp” “A-flat, E” and eventually “that’s every note except F-sharp.”
Niki is allergic to loud noises. “Ma’am,” he says, arriving at the house where he will later meet the gangsters, “I can’t work with all this noise.” He agrees to return that night. He stumbles upon the hubbub. “You hear a foreign accent and you immediately thing we’re criminals?” Uri, played by Lior Raz, says. (He does, and they are.) “Why didn’t [the owner] give you the combination?” Niki asks. “Unless you can open the safe, f*** off,” Uri says. But Niki can open the safe. “There,” Uri says, passing over his business card. “If you want to make real money, you give me a call.” He hands Niki a stiff wad of notes.
Harry encourages the romance between Ruthie and Niki. “He’s very eligible,” Harry says, “but he has a hearing condition…Did I mention? He’s very eligible!” “I heard her playing,” Niki says of Ruthie. “She’s good.” “He was a child prodigy but he doesn’t play any more because of his hearing condition,” Harry says. He suggests that Niki walks Ruthie to class. “Harry,” Niki says, “it’s not the nineteen-fifties!” “Just carry her books to class!” Harry says. Harry is admitted to hospital but can’t pay the thirty-six-thousand-dollar bill. “Harry got pissed off that Medicare wouldn’t cover his hearing aids,” his wife says, “so he stopped paying the premiums.” Niki’s bank denies him a loan—“unfortunately your insufficient credit history excludes you from a business loan at this time”—and he fingers the business card. ”I can see in your eyes that you are very, very curious,” Uri says. He beelines Niki to a locked safe. “Ready. Open it. Ten minutes should be enough.” It is. “I have a job for you on Saturday,” Uri says. “How much does it pay?” “More than the piano-tuner shit.”
Havana Rose Liu recently played a character whom I dubbed “Danny’s Gorgeous Girlfriend” in the film “Power Ballad,” which I reviewed last month. Here too she plays the girlfriend and here too I would have loved for her to have more screen time. The scenes where she is deep in thought rehearsing the student orchestra zing. “Tuner” is flattened by the same problem as “Power Ballad”—that the female roles are pushed backwards. It is one of those films about men assuming they have to solve all their problems for themselves. I have always had a high regard for piano tuners; I’m the kind of concertgoer who arrives two hours early to the performance of a piano concerto to study them working. But “Tuner” isn’t a biopic; is a gangster film, filled with fish tanks and barbed-wire-encased buildings and cryptocurrency payments.
In “Nuremberg,” which I reviewed in November, Mr Woodall impresses the audience in the pivotal secondary role of Göring’s translator; here he has more space to develop Niki—pushing down on his earphones, pinching his brows, and bowing his head forwards, say, when he is suffering. But it is the sharp screenplay which sticks with us. Niki listens to Ruthie’s composition. He suggests adding a keyboard to support the texture. “I got you something,” he says. “Is it a new ending?” “No.” Niki hands over a box. “It’s a Rolex,” she says. “Yeah.” “Where did you get this?” “I got it in an estate sale.” “I don’t want it…It’s just a lot. We’ve only been dating for a month. I don’t know what this is.” “I do,” Niki says, “you’re my girlfriend. Unless that’s not what you want.” “It’s an insane gift to give someone,” Ruthie says. “It wasn’t that expensive!” Niki replies.
Adam Poole
9th June 2026
If you are interested in viewing this screening, please book your tickets here
