Tesla
IFCMichael Almereyda is by no means a household name but his latest work, Tesla, is a culmination of the past twenty years of his work. Marking his third collaboration with Ethan Hawke, it is alternately challenging, playful and chock-full of surprising moments that make it one of the most risky films of the year.
To start with, anyone expecting historical accuracy is in for a shock. Tesla is filled to the brim with anachronisms, fantasy and flourishes of comedy to challenge its genre. If it was architecture, some of the rooms would be highly sophisticated, while others are cheap sets. If it was a graphic novel the characters would constantly address the reader and backtrack what was said. The usual rules of biography are bent and broken, constantly reminding the audience to question what they are witnessing.
As a result a film like this is destined to be divisive, which is typical of Almereyda’s career. For instance, in 2000, his first collaboration with Ethan Hawke was a Y2K-era Hamlet prompted questions like, “Why did Hamlet’s dad disappear into a Pepsi One machine?” or “Whose idea was it to cast Bill Murray as Polonius?” or “Did the ‘To be or not to be’ speech have to happen in a Blockbuster Video?” Tesla provokes these kinds of questions as well. Why show two historical figures engage in an ice-cream fight? Was roller-skating in your home a popular pastime in the 1880s? Did chain link fences and synth pop exist back then as well? The film is steeped in asides and a mischievous sense of artificiality, but these moments are anchored by performances that are grounded and genuine. It’s a testament to each performer’s trust in the director to pull this off.
Case in point: the most talked about -(em dash) and memeable- moment in this film is whenHawke’s Tesla performs a hushed, off-key karaoke version of Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” after a series of crushing failures - all the more impressive since Hawke can actually sing. Moments like this are so unheard of and rare in biography that it’s both earnest and sublime. When tackling a story about a historical figure, an audience expects a film to stay close to the facts, while capturing the highs and lows of their lives. Tesla presents something entirely different: an emotional portrait instead of by-the-numbers storytelling.
In spite of this, the film still isn’t pure invention. The beats of Nikola Tesla’s life are presented with a particular focus on the late 1800s, when he made strides in promoting alternating current (AC) and undertaking experiments with wireless energy. Where the film both succeeds and fails is illustrating his struggles to communicate his ideas. The way Tesla expresses himself is considered too staid and scientific, often involving long, technical monologues. This does not only represent a language barrier with the likes of J.P. Morgan, Donnie Keshawarz, but the common man, Peter Greene in a rare cameo, and, by extension, just about anyone else who is listening.
However, Tesla is about more than miscommunication. It’s about thwarted dreams, not only concerning the protagonist’s unfinished inventions, but a love story that never came to be. Anne Morgan, Eve Hewson, is the narrator and a visual guide throughout the story, whose conversations with Tesla not only capture her unrequited feelings for him, but narrate the story of an idealist who is crushed beneath the wheels of capitalism. This shows how Tesla is misunderstood by his contemporaries and that he’s naïve enough to believe he can win a game much larger than any of them.
Hawke brings a quiet gravitas to the role, employing a faint accent and rarely betraying his insecurities, even when he can’t help but unravel. It’s the latest in a string of interesting roles he has taken on over past few years, such as Maudie, First Reformed, In The Valley of Violence,The Kid, and Adopt a Highway. Considering his previous involvement with Almereyda, taking up this project didn’t give him pause. Their previous collaboration was a similarly subversive biker gang adaptation of Shakespeare’s Cymbeline. A film like this is only further proof that his acting abilities are becoming more assured, experimental and refined.
Aside from Hawke, several performers from previous Almereyda films make appearances, including Lois Smith, Jim Gaffigan, Hannah Gross and Kyle McLachlan. In fact, Hawke and McLachlan play dire enemies that mirror their roles in Hamlet twenty years ago, immediately falling into their adversarial chemistry like it was yesterday. Details like this suggest Tesla could be a culmination of this director’s career in the 21st century, as well as its similarities to Almereyda’s2014 film, Experimenter, in that it’s a cross between video essay, biopic and metafiction. It may also be the second entry in an unfinished trilogy.
Could Tesla have been longer? Surprisingly yes, especially since the inventor’s later years were steeped in eccentricity that lends itself to this director’s imagination. A surprising companion piece to this film might be Derek Waters’ Drunk History Vol. 6, which briefly covers the end of Tesla’s life and his doomed love affair with a pigeon. This is just as gloriously loopy as Tesla proved to be, although their intentions couldn’t be more different. Still, they both are highly recommended.