Leo Woodall Gets a Tune Up
The life of a piano tuner is not glamorous. Unpredictable hours, loud noises, finicky clients, wrenches, needles. Tuners can work on as many as five pianos a day. But, in a world of “I know a guy,” it’s hard to get your flowers.
“I didn’t know how much went into it,” the actor Leo Woodall said the other day, standing by an open grand piano at the Faust Harrison showroom, near Columbus Circle. He peered into the instrument’s belly, silver strings laid out methodically like the web of a type-A spider. “It boggles me how intricate it is.”
Woodall was in town for his new movie, “Tuner,” directed by Daniel Roher, about a wunderkind pianist named Niki who becomes a technician after developing hyperacusis—painfully low tolerance for sound. “There was so much training,” Woodall said, wearing a white polo and black shorts. “I was constantly tuning the piano the best I could, just to pass the time on set.” In real life, Woodall has no musical background. “I went to a school where learning instruments—well, learning at all—was not really encouraged. So it was never really on my radar.”
That day, Woodall was joined by Kevin Busse, Faust Harrison’s East Coast head technician. “When pianos are tuned a certain way, it’s like staring at a beautiful mountain,” Busse said wistfully. He, like Niki, started as a pianist and then made the turn to tech. “I was, like, ‘Is this guy playing me in real life?’ ” Busse said. “I don’t have hyperacusis, but I do walk very quietly because I’m an auditory person.”
Woodall eyed Busse’s tools on the ground, clocking some familiar devices. “Apart from the . . . ,” he trailed off uncertainly.
“The lever?” Busse offered.
“The lever. Where is it?” Woodall stepped closer to the piano. “Oh, it’s already set up! This is beautiful.” He reached into the belly and fondled a shiny wooden crank, which adjusts string tension, before sitting down on the bench. He leaned one arm on the lid, his other hand aimlessly poking at keys. Busse flinched at every note.
“It’s sitting above 440, because we’ve entered the more humid months, so the pitch floats upward,” Busse said.
“I don’t know what ‘440’ means,” Woodall said.
“It’s the standard pitch.”
“Right,” Woodall said. “And I had two technicians who never told me that.” He’d started prepping for the role months before filming began, with help from the movie’s piano consultant, the tuner Peter White.
“The first lesson Peter taught me was the wah-wah-wah-wah,” Woodall said.
“The beats?” Busse asked.
Woodall lit up. “Beats! That’s what I would try to listen for.”
Busse, who wore a black polo, got to work tuning, pulling the lever ever so slightly on an A.
“How often is it just this, compared with taking out the keys?” Woodall said.
“A lot of your work should be regulating,” Busse said, playing two notes together. “The thing with piano tuning is you need to go fast.” In the film, Niki tells a client that a session could take more than two hours. “If I took two to three hours, I’d never get paid,” Busse said.
“There’s at least one sequence in the film where I completely take it apart,” Woodall said. In the scene, Niki is trying to save the piano of his love interest, Ruthie, from water damage. He dismantles the instrument and borrows Ruthie’s hair dryer to get rid of the moisture.
“Don’t say that, don’t say that,” Busse said, shaking his head. “That would certainly change the tuning.”
“In the movie, we get asked to fix toilets,” Woodall said. “Have you ever been asked?”
“Maybe not plumbing, but fixing someone’s internet,” Busse said. “I try to stay in my lane.”
The film starts as a buddy comedy, with Niki helping out his elderly mentor, Harry, played by Dustin Hoffman, on tuning gigs. During a solo house job, Niki gets roped into using his hyperacusis to help a group of criminals break into a safe. He can hear the clicks.
“I’ve never had any luck cracking safes,” Busse said. “But I’ve picked the lock to my own house, because I needed to get in. That’s more of a mechanical skill.”
Busse pointed to red felt strips and protruding metal loops: “That’s for the temperament area, from which you tune the rest of the piano. ”
Woodall nodded. “I remember using the felts to numb either side of each string, or whatever,” he said. He stood to look over Busse’s shoulder. “It still fascinates me how each key has three strings.” (Some have one or two.)
Busse started tuning a low B-flat.
“Do you have perfect pitch?” Woodall asked.
“When it comes to saxophones,” Busse replied.
“That’s amazing.”
Woodall stepped away to examine Busse’s tools again. “I’m looking for the needle one,” he said. He picked up a wooden stick with a prickly end.
“That’s for voicing,” Busse said.
“Yeah, we did a bit of that,” Woodall said. “Take it apart, flip it upside down, and just really get in there.” ♦