Michael Almereyda’s Tesla Shines a New Light on the Mad Genius Myth

By now most everybody knows of the famous feud between the inventors Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla. Their “war of currents” is as much a tale of personality clashes as it is of rival ideas; Edison gets boiled down to the ruthless businessman while Tesla is cast as the misunderstood genius, yada yada yada, eventually the band AC/DC is born. What you may not know, however, are some of the seedier details forgotten to our collective consciousness. For example, who can speak with any authority on this Edison-Tesla feud without delving into the Great Ice Cream Cone Fight of 1886?

In a world of interchangeably formulaic biopics, those origin stories that regurgitate for the nth time a famous person’s uphill battle towards their most known achievement, Michael Almereyda’s Tesla (2020) is a true light in the dark. Shot like a hybrid stage play, Almereyda utilizes back projection, lighting tricks and a fourth wall breaking narrator throughout, adding a welcome postmodern flourish to what easily could have been shot as a straightforward period drama. More than anything, it’s refreshing to see a biopic that approaches its subject with both the respect they deserve and a welcome sense of whimsy. I won't spoil them but I will say the fictitious ice cream fight, among other such unconventional comedic outbursts, make a lot of sense when you realize that Almereyda himself cited Drunk History as an inspiration.

More than just laughs, these unexpected breaks work to enrich our emotional connection towards our otherwise enigmatic titular focus. As the film itself points out, if you google Tesla there’s roughly only four photos of the man, but thousands of imaginative interpretations in the form of illustrations and photoshopped collages. Unsurprisingly, when we read about a clash between two powerhouse inventors–a ‘battle’ that saw the first instance of capital punishment by electrocution, if for no other reason then to prove one current was more efficient than the other–our imaginations tend to run a little wild. A loftier battle of the minds tends to be imagined, full of thunderclaps and unending boiling rage. With a simple cone splat to the face, Tesla harnesses that creative impulse while also grounding it. It’s just the right amount of drama to what most likely amounted to a routine workplace disagreement.

Subsequently, Tesla is less interested in explaining alternating currents or transformer circuits than it is in trying to uncover the man’s inner life. Starting with his exit from the employ of Thomas Edison (Kyle MacLachlan), the film weaves through Tesla’s (Ethan Hawke) various interpersonal relationships and electronic breakthroughs as narrated by Anne Morgan (Eve Hewson), daughter of J.P. and philanthropist in her own right. We’ve been conditioned by popular culture to think of Nikola Tesla as a mad scientist type, the likes of whom lives in a spooky mansion and builds clone transportation machines, or thinks X Æ A-12 is in any way a legitimate baby name. But eccentricity doesn’t necessarily equal madness or hubris, more often than not it’s a reputation born out of something as simple as miscommunication. Ethan Hawke’s Tesla is soft spoken and aloof–an intelligent man crippled in part by his sensitivity and the public’s misinterpretation of this awkwardness for masculine stoicism.

Which isn’t to say the guy wasn’t at least a little weird–the film certainly highlights his struggles with self imposed isolation, idealized love for his dead mother, phobias of pearls and even a belief in martians. At its best Tesla de-claws the myth of that angry male genius who is simultaneously punished and celebrated by society as a superior being. Instead of being a perpetual ball of anger working madly through the nights, Almereyda’s Tesla is a bundle of neuroses and intelligence whose naive utopian ideals are as much the key to his downfall as they are to his genius. But his passion to create a better world through technological advancements isn’t entirely selfless–it’s just Tesla’s best excuse to continue chasing his passion projects without having to directly run a business. In that way, Tesla calls to mind some of Ken Russell’s freewheeling biopics about composers and artists, such as The Music Lovers, Savage Messiah, or Mahler. All are portraits of great, flawed men who spent all of their energy on their respective interests simply because it was the only way they knew how to live. It’s less for the monetary glory or betterment of mankind and more for the exorcism of something that haunts their waking hours.

Which then brings us to the real villain of our film: figuring out how to secure funding in order to keep doing what you love. No great inventor or artist would be known by us if not for the massive amounts of money backing their legacy. While the servile role of the creative to money isn’t one we tend to romanticize, it is realistically the only way for an unhindered genius to continue working. The main source of angst in Tesla stems from his own dislike of making informed business decisions while still expecting funding to continually flow to him. While Edison is portrayed as being as idiosyncratically left-brained as Tesla, he also possesses an unwavering confidence and strong interest in conquering through capitalism–something Tesla doesn’t ever feel he needs to bother with himself. Tesla instead signs away his most lucrative inventions to the highest bidder, a situation businessman George Westinghouse (Jim Gaffigan) takes full advantage of. Tesla learns the hard way that it’s not necessarily the geniuses who are rewarded in this world, but simply those who are most consistent in their moneymaking output.

Alamereyda’s inclusion of French stage sensation Sarah Bernhardt (Rebecca Dayan) becomes an interesting juxtaposition to Tesla’s own struggles. Bernhardt is just as eccentric if not more than Tesla; she’s famous for roles in which she has to die on stage every single night and reportedly sleeps in a coffin in order to bring herself closer to death on a daily basis. But unlike Tesla, who keeps having to fight his way to the top only to fall back into obscurity each time, Bernhardt’s success is shown to have grown exactly because of her ability to consistency reproduce her genius on stage every night. In comparison, Tesla invents something brilliant only to then discard it in the pursuit of an even loftier prospect. Like the lightning that so beguiles him, Tesla rarely strikes the same spot twice, causing the true nature of his genius to become as unknowable as the nature he aims to demystify. Inevitably, as his failures outnumber his successes, he is all but abandoned by his beneficiaries–barred from that wealthy white-linen tennis game that we call life.

The film’s emphasis on the women in Tesla’s life turns out to be a surprisingly insightful angle, especially when you consider how easy it would have been to have focused only on powerful men. The role of Anne Morgan, who doubles as our narrator, is played by Eve Hewson with brilliant deadpan wit and an enigmatic intensity. While it’s nothing new to have a female character act as an emotional cypher to an otherwise reserved male lead, Anne Morgan is decidedly not our typical narrator–besides the fact that she’s objectively far more powerful than Tesla in her own right, she’s shown to have a life outside of her unreturned affection for the man. We’re right there with her in her initial fascination upon meeting Tesla, she not only fiercely advocates for his work but she also spends years supporting him financially. When she then eventually grows tired of blindly giving to a man who’s relationship style more closely mirrors that of Edison’s direct currents, we’re left equally as disappointed in him, if not at least sympathetic to her as a business woman. After witnessing him selfishly squander both her generosity and affection, his fall into obscurity seems far less perplexing. (Gotta admit, I woulda given him that martian money myself though. One last hurrah.)

After all of the conversations we’ve had about statues this year, it feels more important than ever to rethink how we immortalize our historic figures. To flatten them down into mere symbols or accomplishments is to erase the person’s nuance and humanity for what amounts to only a small piece of their actual lives. Tesla works entirely on nuance, cutting through the impersonal public image to discover the layered human being behind it. With its unusual cinematic structure, emphasis on the emotional and self-aware indulgence in silliness, I feel compelled to stoop to saying that Tesla is… truly electric.

Tesla is available on demand starting Friday, August 21.