Natalia Laska and Martin Tucker. Photo by Sydney Morning Herald. Photographer: George Fragopoulos

In an age where streaming services, smartphones and digital entertainment dominate our daily lives, the humble piano has quietly slipped from the centre of Australian homes. Yet, as filmmaker Natalia Laska reveals in her moving documentary The Piano Tuner, these instruments, and the people who own them, still have stories to tell.

The film follows Tasmanian piano tuner Martin, affectionately known as “the piano doctor”, over an eight-year period as he works to preserve a disappearing piece of Australia’s cultural history. 

Once, Australia was home to more pianos per capita than anywhere else in the world. Today, many of those instruments are abandoned, discarded or left gathering dust. Determined to save them from landfill, Martin and his friend, piano removalist Tony Gamble, establish a piano orphanage, collecting unwanted instruments in the hope that one day they will find new homes.

Part celebration of craftsmanship, part reflection on changing times, The Piano Tuner is also a deeply personal story about purpose, passion and preserving traditions that risk being forgotten.

Laska brings a wealth of experience to The Piano Tuner, having worked for more than two decades as a journalist, photographer and documentary filmmaker across Europe and Australia. 

Cinema Australia spoke with Natalia about documenting Martin’s extraordinary mission, Australia’s little-known piano history, and the patience required to follow a story over eight years.

The Piano Tuner will screen at the Sydney Film Festival from Saturday, 13 June. Details here. 

The Piano Tuner.

“All of these people people are advocating for the slow life and the fact that we should be enjoying simple pleasures like music, dance, conversation, or the art of craftsmanship. I hope that’s not gone. I hope it will stay this way forever.”

Interview by Matthew Eeles

You’ve previously worked as a journalist across different mediums, including print and television. How did that previous work prepare you for making this film?

That was in what I call a previous life in Poland. It was mainly writing for print media for a weekly newspaper called Polityka. I actually preferred to work in a space of non-front-page, quick-story journalism, but something more in-depth. With the invention of the internet, I was usually relocating somewhere for a story because it was possible to just go somewhere, travel, stay a bit longer, and actually capture something more in depth in a space of what we call in Poland reportage. It’s a social story. So yes, it was quite helpful because I developed patience for just sitting and waiting for something to happen, or for some sentence to be dropped, something that is, in my opinion, important for the story.

We find ourselves in a time of quick and dirty journalism, for lack of better words. For someone so patient, is today’s quick-turnaround media landscape frustrating for you?

I’m simply not part of it. My English is very limited and my understanding of the Australian context is also very limited, or let’s say it’s in progress. I just don’t feel really equipped to be a journalist in Australia because I know how important it is to actually understand your audience and your readers. I’m coming from a different planet. Poland is a different planet and I have more in common with, I don’t know, Africans than with Australians, if you ask me.

I find it interesting that you’ve told me that you don’t feel equipped to be a journalist in Australia, yet you’ve made this excellent feature documentary that I feel will resonate greatly with most Australians. Where did that confidence come from?

Well, I don’t have a problem with confidence in general. I was not really making this film for Australian audiences. I was making it for myself. It was my way of exploring Australia. I began making this film less than two years after I moved to Australia, specifically to Tasmania, and I was still exploring Australia. So I was really with the camera, with this incredible privilege of being invited into people’s lives, actually storming into people’s lives, because quite often I was doing a Werner Herzog: you first shoot and then you apologise. So this is very different in that first you have something like a concept, then you actually discuss budget, if you’re lucky to have budget, and you have to secure some kind of pathway to the audience, or at least a concept for the pathway to the audience, and then you start your work. My experience and my journalistic attitude were never like this. First, I have to secure access to my story and to people that are going to give me something.

What’s your general interpretation of Australia?

I should talk about nice things. [Laughs].

Not necessarily. I like a balanced piece.

It’s that Australian thing that you have to be positive, and I find that really difficult. I do like the Australian attitude that things are going to be all right because in Europe we actually start everything from a problem. So for example, in this film, my problem was that I realised that Australians don’t know about Australian piano makers. Australians don’t know about their own piano makers and their own chapter, or what I call the golden era of piano making in Australia. And I thought that was shocking. House after house, people didn’t realise they were playing a piano built in Australia. In Sydney, I met a very talented Jewish pianist and she was playing a Wertheim piano. Wertheim was actually a Jewish immigrant from Germany who built pianos in Australia. She didn’t know that. There was a moment when Wertheim had the Star of David as a piano brand imprinted on the frame of his pianos. It was really fascinating to dig into the history of the piano industry in Australia. That was my problem. I started from the problem and then started to actually understand that Australians operate on a different dimension in life. It’s more kind of Zen, it’s more about having fun now, which is nice. It was my way to adjust to that way of thinking. I think it’s healthy, but at the same time, not very sustainable. I’m really amazed by the Australian environment, how harsh it is in relation to pianos, how piano-unfriendly it is in relation to people, and how diverse and unpredictable it can be. It can be quite lush and hospitable, which can then be followed by ten years of drought. It’s so fascinating to me that you live in a land of extreme weather circumstances and people can be incredibly relaxed about that.

The Piano Tuner.

Has piano been a part of your life forever, or was all of this history new to you?

My knowledge of the piano comes from the experience of working on this film. But I’m from Poland, so for me, the music of Frédéric Chopin is something that’s so special to me. I cannot handle listening to Chopin in Australia because then I’ll cry. Martin said that actually I look really ugly when I’m crying, so I have to be careful. [Laughs]. So Chopin is just a very important part of Polish identity because during World War II, it was forbidden to perform the music of Frédéric Chopin, so his music is simply a part of who we are. So I’ll say that pianos are very important to me, but I don’t play piano.

As much as this film is a way to showcase the importance and historical significance of the piano in everyday Australians’ lives, the whole film centres around Martin Tucker. Describe Martin. Why are you drawn to him?

I realised instantly that he is very funny. He’s also a natural performer and he loves to be the centre of attention. But that’s important, and that’s why I decided to follow him with the camera. It actually doesn’t matter if he’s performing for a retired housewife, or performing at a concert hall full of people clapping, it doesn’t matter, he will deliver exactly the same performance.

The Piano Tuner was filmed over eight years, which is an extraordinarily long time. What kept you both going?

Okay, so I will give you an Australian answer. It was fun. Imagine going to so many different houses, and there’s so much curiosity about who is inside these houses in all these different parts of Australia. It’s another pocket of domestic piano-playing culture in Australia. You knock on the door and they let you in. You’re going into people’s houses with a camera saying, “Sorry, sorry, I hope you don’t mind.” And they’re usually okay with it because they’re Australians and they’re so welcoming. And then I’d film, and it’s such a fantastic way of creating an observational documentary.

I’m sure it was quite the challenge. Was there ever a moment where you felt like giving up filming?

Oh, yes! Once I started editing. There’s a lot of repetitiveness and that was a pretty big concern. If you want to edit and just create some kind of consistent story that other people will enjoy watching, then you have to start asking yourself, “What are we saying here? What are we actually witnessing here, and to what extent are we going to be able to build some narrative around it?” So that was the moment when I realised I had to stop. I also ran out of hard drives because there was no budget. For the first three years, I was filming in 4K. But I couldn’t afford to store the amount of footage I had.

The Piano Tuner.

From your observation, is there one defining and common factor that makes a piano owner?

I’ll go back to your question about what I think about Australia, or what I learned about Australia while making this film. I realised that pianos are helping Australians to be less pragmatic and more passionate about something other than their superannuation, or renovating their kitchen, or other issues that are actually consuming people on a daily basis, which in Australia is very much about your property portfolio, yoga, or some digestive system problem. [Laughs]. Piano actually allows these Australians to focus on something that’s related to their emotions, music, memory, and the ability to share something so special. I think that’s also why I really enjoyed watching people play the piano, because when you play the piano, you don’t play it for yourself, you play piano for someone else. Other people are listening, and maybe even singing along. That was very much an Australian tradition actually, to congregate around the piano and sing along. So that’s just fantastic.

Which of the characters featured throughout the film had the biggest impact on you? Who will you never forget?

There’s a lot of people. It’s funny because something I learned from Martin, and another reason that I was so intrigued by this whole project, is that pianos have a lifespan just like people. And throughout this process, I witnessed people dying along with their pianos also becoming unplayable. So a lot of people that you’re going to see in this documentary are not with us anymore. And I did establish a very close relationship with Gay Hawkes, a bushfire survivor. Piano playing was her way of coping with her trauma. Gay could no longer play because she had arthritis, but this didn’t stop Gay and Martin from maintaining their friendship. They’d dance together. And for me, that was evidence that Martin’s relationship with his clients is not strictly commercial. And Gay is not with us anymore, but she’s important to me, really important. A fantastic human, she was.

Martin comes across as being quite solid emotionally. I was surprised to see him get emotional when watching school student Gabriel Forteza play the piano. Was this a surprise to you too?

Yes, that was a big surprise. He is emotional, but the moments when I’m filming, and the moments that we are all witnessing in the film, he is breaching this professional profile of being just a piano tuner and he’s also functioning and acting as a social worker. He’s a professional performer. He goes to these places and he performs. He fixes the pianos and that’s part of his professional behaviour. So to see him emotional was very unusual. That’s why there was a little bit of dodgy camera work in that scene because I was thinking, “Wow, this is incredible. I’m actually witnessing something in Martin that I hadn’t seen.” He was crying. It was incredible. Gabriel was actually self-taught, so playing in the way that he was was crushing people’s emotions instantly.

The Piano Tuner.

Considering the amount of travel involved, The Piano Tuner could be described as a road movie . How much of a challenge was that for you both on what I’m assuming were very low resources?

The biggest challenge when it came to travel was to make sure the camera was not stolen or broken, and that it was kept charged. Most of this film’s budget was keeping the two of us alive. Martin has a difficult time distinguishing between his personal life and his professional life. And that’s the reason that I like his life so much because he’s very professional, but at the same time he’s in a very happy space. Even if he’s not generating income, he’s still happy because he loves what he’s doing. So the same was applicable to our journey. It was difficult, of course, but at the same time, incredibly enjoyable. And my only concern was this bloody equipment. [Laughs].

You spoke earlier about editing the film. You’re working with some highly regarded contributors here including producers Julia Overton and Tom Zubrycki, who I’m a fan of, as well as editor Fiona Strain. Were they onboard from the beginning, or did they join later in the journey?

Okay. So it all started with Roger Scholes, a film director. That’s very important to know. Roger made The Tale of Ruby Rose. He is not with us anymore. The only reason you and I are talking about this film right now is because of a call from Roger. We bumped into each other in Tasmania. He asked what I’m working on and I told him about this film. And he asked to take a look. He was the first person who actually did what he said he’d do. He went through the rushes and he said, “Oh, we have to make this film.” I told him we have no money and he said, “Don’t worry about it.” And he connected me with a mob from Sydney, and then from that moment it started to roll outside of my backyard, let’s say. It was just pure coincidence and pure luck. But also I was bumping into people including Julia Overton and Tom Zubrycki. The story resonated with them and it’s actually been a really personal team effort.

Do you think you would have persevered with the film if this team hadn’t become involved?

No, no, no. It really started to snowball once they had become involved. Roger became really deeply involved in it. Within this story, people were finding their own little life agenda. For example, I think there is a specific generation in Australia that is slowly dying out that do remember the piano as being a centrepiece in their family life. They also appreciate connection, the art of listening, sharing the slow life, if you know what I mean? All of these people that you see in the film’s credits are people advocating for the slow life and just the fact that we should simply be enjoying simple pleasures like music, dance, conversation, or the art of craftsmanship. I hope that’s not gone. I hope it will stay this way forever.

I have a small tear building up in the corner of my eye right now.

Because you’ve seen the film. You know what I’m talking about. And you’re continuing this story by writing about it. You’re now one of these people who are sharing a story about Martin’s life, and about the people who are in this film.

The Piano Tuner.

What advice do you have for other filmmakers wanting to make a documentary with a similar low-budget approach?

Documentary filmmaking is a tool for us to understand the world around us. It’s a tool for creating bridges between people that are becoming more and more polarised for many reasons, including environmental, political, et cetera. So I think that documentary filmmaking can actually give us a professional profile in the quest of understanding the world we’re living in. And I think it’s worth everything. If you’re willing to work for no money, you’re going to learn so much that it will eventually make sense and it will justify all of your efforts. I encourage everyone to do it the way that we do it in Poland, we start with a problem. You will then have more of a chance to find people who will join you because they also want to understand, unpack and solve problems too. And I think there’s a lot of problems to focus on in Australia, especially in relation to climate change, for example.

How proud are you of this final film? Did it work out how you had originally envisioned it?

Yes and no. I wanted this film to be more crazy. Martin is way crazier than you’re going to see on the screen. I wanted to make it more ambiguous and more crazy. I’m not saying crazy in the sense of entertainment, I’m saying it in a way of giving proper justice to what I actually witnessed while filming. There are a lot of crazy piano people out there that we don’t feature in the film. I want to put scenes that are not in the film on a YouTube channel. I have to do something with this footage, but also I owe it to the people that let me invade their private space and film.

The Piano Tuner will screen at the Sydney Film Festival from Saturday, 13 June. Details here.