REVIEW

Exhilarating Crime Drama ‘TUNER’ is the Surprise Gem of the Year

By Matt Oakes · May 29, 2026

An unassuming piano tuner with perfect pitch and a debilitating sensitivity to sound finds himself pulled into a criminal underworld after discovering that his extraordinary ear for music is equally adept at cracking safes. It’s a clever premise, one that allows Tuner to function simultaneously as a tense crime thriller, a thoughtful character study, and an exploration of how one man navigates a world whose sounds can both sustain him and completely overwhelm him.

What could be dismissed at first glance as a stylish genre exercise gradually reveals itself to be something richer. In his wildly-impressive narrative feature debut, Oscar-winning Navalny documentarian Daniel Roher wraps these slick crime-thriller mechanics around a deeper story about disability and purpose, and the difficult process of recalibrating to a life that didn’t turn out the way you’d planned. It’s also just an absolute blast. Funny, suspenseful, romantic, heartbreaking, and remarkably assured for a filmmaker making his first fiction feature.

From the opening scene, Roher directs with the confidence of someone who has been making narrative films for decades. The film moves with infectious energy, effortlessly balancing crime-thriller mechanics, steamy romance, character drama, and auditory experimentation without ever feeling overstuffed or losing sight of its characters. It’s a remarkably difficult balancing act, and one that mirrors an observation Niki makes early in the film about piano tuning. Perfection, he suggests, doesn’t really exist. There is only the endless pursuit of harmony.

The idea quietly becomes a mission statement for the movie itself. Like a finely tuned instrument, Tuner succeeds because every component is working toward the same end. The performances, sound design, romance, suspense, and character work all complement one another rather than competing for attention. Roher demonstrates an uncanny ability to bring those disparate elements into alignment, crafting a film that feels precise, without ever becoming mechanical or losing sight of its character’s humanity.

At the center of it all is a phenomenal performance from Leo Woodall. Best known to audiences for his role on the second season of The White Lotus, Woodall finds something deeply affecting in Niki’s contradictions. He projects confidence while appearing physically guarded. His body seems perpetually braced against the world around him. Through subtle movements and carefully calibrated reactions, Woodall communicates the exhausting reality of living with hyperacusis, a condition that transforms the everyday cacophony of life into sources of genuine, back-breaking pain.

The sound design proves equally essential to the film’s success. Roher places us directly inside Niki’s experience, turning barking dogs, fire alarms, crowded conversations, and mundane background noise into overwhelming assaults. Tinnitus hums beneath scenes. Sounds and conversations distort, mute, or crank up based on how many forms of ear protection Niki is currently wearing. The result is immersive but also invite audiences into Niki’s interiority in a striking way – the harmony between performance and sound design precise and working to elevate the other.

Crucially, Tuner never loses sight of the fact that it’s supposed to be entertaining. For all its thematic richness and character complexity, the film is also just a banger crime thriller. As Niki’s talents attract increasingly dangerous attention, Roher steadily ratchets up the tension while delivering a series of wonderfully constructed sequences that evoke the slick pleasures of classic heist cinema. It even comes stocked with a jazzy montage that juxtaposes Niki’s blossoming romance with student pianist Ruthie (Havana Rose Liu) against his growing proficiency as a locksmith and safecracker. The parallel editing highlights the dual possible paths opening for Niki, as one part of his life is opening up just as another is threatening to consume him. It’s in moments like these that Roher’s balancing act comes into sharp focus and his film remains equally invested in whether Niki gets the girl, cracks the safe, pays the bills, or preserves his soul.

Another of the film’s greatest strengths is the precision of its writing. Not because it’s flashy or packed with quotable dialogue, but because every character feels fully realized. Nobody exists as a simple archetype or plot device. They’re contradictory, flawed, occasionally frustrating, and immediately recognizable as real people. The script understands that people rarely behave consistently, especially when pushed into desperate circumstances, and it finds drama in those contradictions rather than papering them over for the sake of narrative payoff.

That complexity extends to the film’s supporting cast. As Ruthie, Liu proves every bit as compelling as she was in Lurker, bringing ambition, vulnerability, and anxiety to a character who functions as both a romantic partner and a painful reminder of the life Niki might have lived. A talented pianist and composer still pursuing artistic prestige, Ruthie represents the future that was taken from him. Their chemistry is electric, but it’s tinged with sadness. Every moment together forces Niki to confront not only what he’s become, but what he lost.

Meanwhile, Dustin Hoffman’s Harry Horowitz and Lior Raz’s Uri emerge as competing father figures in the wake of Niki’s late father’s absence. Both men are charismatic, gregarious, and outwardly warm, but they pull him toward radically different futures. Harry’s kindness is genuine, rooted in mentorship and affection. Uri conceals danger beneath the same easy charm, offering much needed “opportunity” and validation while quietly drawing Niki deeper into criminality. The contrast between these two patriarchal figures is an example of the film’s smart and subtle touches, illustrating how two seemingly similar sides of a coin can be polar opposites beneath the surface.

In terms of what lays beneath, laying just under the film’s crime-thriller mechanics, Tuner is most decidedly about recalibrating after loss. Hyperacusis robbed Niki of the future he imagined for himself, forcing him to abandon a promising musical career and settle for a quieter existence tuning instruments for others. When circumstance leads him toward criminality, he isn’t motivated by greed so much as purpose. Breaking into safes allows him to help the people he cares about and reclaim some sense of agency over a life defined by the limitations of disability. That tension deepens through his relationship with Ruthie, whose success as a musician constantly reminds him of the success he never had.

Roher repeatedly asks how we allow a “gift” to define a life, and whether meaning can still be found when circumstances force us to reinvent ourselves. The answers are complicated, which is precisely what makes Tuner so compelling. Like its protagonist, the film isn’t searching for perfection. It’s searching for harmony. Remarkably, it finds it.

CONCLUSION: Daniel Roher’s ‘Tuner’ is the rare crowd-pleasing crime thriller that works just as well as a thoughtful character study. Propelled by Leo Woodall’s breakout performance and a deeply immersive sonic perspective, this sharply tuned gem finds surprising emotional depth between its suspenseful set pieces.