Interview: Kyle MacLachlan on Tesla, Twin Peaks, and Enjoying the Unexpected

On screen, there often appear to be dark thoughts running underneath Kyle MacLachlan’s all-American handsomeness, which might partially explain why he evolved into a great character actor rather than a star. The actor followed his film debut in David Lynch’s Dune with the starring role as the director’s tormented avatar in Blue Velvet, and since then he’s gone on to fashion an unforgettable gallery of earnest, secretive heroes and authority figures who wield passive aggression and condescension like a fine blade.

As MacLachlan graduated from playing underdogs to big dogs on TV and in film, his often untapped sense of humor has come to the fore. In 2000’s Hamlet and, now, Tesla, Michael Almereyda has proven particularly aware of this humor, allowing MacLachlan to create haunting portraits of ambitious men who mask their alienation with a double-edged sword of doublespeak that serves as a parody of modern corporate euphemism. In and of itself, this insinuation would be amusing, yet MacLachlan also imbues Claudius and Thomas Edison, respectively, with a pathos that complicates the capitalist themes of each film. These men aren’t simple monsters, but also victims, as well as perpetrators, of the materialist illusions that plague many of us.

Talking to MacLachlan via phone last week, we covered, among other topics, his collaborations with Almereyda and his TV work, particularly his startling series of nesting performances in Lynch’s monumental Twin Peaks: The Return. Throughout our conversation, the actor displayed a charming humility, speaking of valuing collaboration with filmmakers and writers like Almereyda and Lynch who have an intimate, crystallized vision as well as an urge to utilize the happy accidents that can bring a scene to life. In essence, MacLachlan has elevated “go with the flow” to an art form, perhaps validating the notion of karma.

How has this strange year been for you? You’re based in New York, right?

We were based in New York. We were there for the first two weeks of March, and then my son had spring break and we left and went on a little family skiing adventure. In the midst of that, everything accelerated and got real serious real fast. We didn’t have to return to New York for our son’s school until April and we looked at each other and said, “Let’s just stay in Los Angeles.” It seemed like the better move to make at the time and that’s what we did. I have a house there, and it’s much, much easier to isolate and be quarantined there.

To segue into Tesla, which I like quite a bit, I was wondering if this was consciously an act of “getting the band back together” for you, Michael, and Ethan Hawke after Hamlet.

[laughs] It was. Michael has been chasing this for such a long time, working through this material. Over the years we’d run into each other in New York and talk about the great experience we had on Hamlet and I’d run into Ethan and we’d say, “Yeah, we gotta do something again.” Michael began to rope this project together, and I’m sure he felt like he had horses tied to his limbs all running in opposite directions while he’s trying to make this thing happen. Ethan’s busy, I was busy, and so it was a matter of finding the time. Finally it came together like pop! Michael had some financing, and explained to us how this was like a wing and prayer, a shoestring production. It was…there was no money. It was crazy, but you know that going in. It was like when I first started, and there can be a lot of fun in that.

I love how the shoestring budget is utilized in both Hamlet and Tesla. I love the conscious artifice.

Yeah, thank you. You can’t help but look at the projected screens and be like “Okay, all right. I get it. It’s representational.” That idea extended to even the stuff that wasn’t projected. The first scene is the roller-skating scene in the house, right? That was originally written as an ice-skating scene with hundreds of extras, and you’re seeing New York at that time in open air, and that’s got to all come out: scratch, scratch, scratch. What can we do that’s contained that’s still interesting? That’s the brilliance of independent filmmaking. You find something, you make it work, and sometimes you even make it better.

I harp on this a lot in my reviews but often think that such representational devices are more beautiful and stimulating than, say, expensive establishing shots.

It says a lot, I think. There’s a certain claustrophobia to this style, there’s a mystery to it, and you have beautiful Eve Hewson providing that great look back. She’s just so stunning and enigmatic. If we’d been caught up in this big ice skating rink it wouldn’t have had any of that intimacy. So, yeah, I agree.

Were there any major differences between your collaboration with Michael and Ethan in Tesla from the work you all did together in Hamlet, or did you all snap back into a rhythm?

We pretty much snapped back I feel. Hamlet was funny because it was one my first independent experiences. I’ve done a lot of independent stuff, but this was really New York independent. With Hamlet, everyone was sitting in a green room together, which was like a very small banquet room. So I’m sitting there and there’s Sam Shepard just walking by, you know, writing something. Liev Shreiber is over there, practicing his Shakespeare. Julia Stiles is sitting nearby. This doesn’t exist on a big movie, where everyone retreats to their trailers when you’re done. This was something special and we were all there for the same reason, trying to get the shot before the light goes, or before they kick us off the location, you know. We’re all together fighting for the dream of this director. And Tesla was similar. We were in a room adjacent to where we were filming with black curtains between each of the dressing areas, an army cot, and a rolling rack with our costume on it, and that was it.

There’s a striking similarity between Claudius’s relationship with Hamlet and Edison’s relationship with Tesla.

Yes, I think so too, on a number of different levels. I played Claudius as very forward-moving, in the world, creative, robust, smart, let’s-get-it-done, and Hamlet of course is suffering from inaction. And that’s Edison too. He’s a bull, forward-moving, and what he does either works or fails. And if it fails, he picks it up and keeps pushing forward. Tesla is a little stuck. He’s brilliant, his mind isn’t stuck, he’s a visionary, but he isn’t able to get the mechanics right to progress.

I think there’s a clear capitalist theme in Tesla, but that said, it doesn’t come at that theme in an easy way. There’s admiration for Edison, who’s a different kind of creative from Tesla.

I agree. Michael made the intentional choice not to create a villain and I was really happy about that. Let’s see the person and maybe understand…maybe he was misdiagnosed. There’s no doubt that he was a shrewd businessman, a great leader of men who thrust himself forward, and he was pig-headed and a brute, but there’s also another side of him that I discovered. It was really Michael who gave me books to read, such as a diary that Edison wrote one summer, and it’s just flights of fancy, really, with beautiful penmanship. It showed a softer side of him, and he’s very intuitive as well. I thought we could put a little of that side in this film, which was also Michael’s intention.

Hearing you talk about Edison’s sensitivity, I think of the Morse code scene, which is a beautiful moment. The movie is called Tesla and Edison gets the most romantic scene.

[laughs] I think he does too. I thought that was lovely, and many of these moments were based on writings that Michael had gleaned from his research. It was an interesting way for Edison to communicate: unexpected, intimate.

You’ve had such a vast career, which lends itself to rhymes. For instance, there’s similarities between your role in Tesla and the character you recently played in Capone, where you’re another ambiguous figure of authority. In each case, you quickly achieve nuance.

Thank you. With Capone it was easy, you basically just react to Tom Hardy. [both laugh] He’s so good, so powerful, and he gave an amazing interpretation of Capone. But I guess that’s part of my effort: You’re looking for the unexpected, and you want to be sure that your choices are supported by the text and the character.

You’ve worked with many distinctive filmmakers: David Lynch, Mike Figgis, Michael Almereyda, Steven Soderbergh. Is there such thing as an ideal working method for you? Do you think of your work in those terms? Or do you go with the flow?

“Go with the flow” is how I like to operate. These guys are super-smart and great directors. They’ve thought through the story, they’ve rolled it into their hands, softened the edges, and so they’re really familiar with their material. My job to come in, having done the work, and have a full quiver of arrows as to the character. But I love to leave room for the magic that occurs, hopefully, when a relationship is happening in front of a camera. Because of my past work with Michael and Ethan, with Hamlet, that was really possible in Tesla. Ethan’s that kind of actor too. He really enjoys the unexpected. I find that to be a common thread with Michael and David Lynch. The unexpected is cherished. You can’t chase after it, it just sort of has to happen, but you welcome it and let it expand. I work best in an environment that is supportive, that is fun, where there’s joy and excitement in the discovery, from everybody. And less so in a combative, authoritative dynamic.

It occurs to me that you’ve been a part of five TV shows that have had a significant impact on pop culture: Twin Peaks, Sex and the City, Desperate Housewives, Portlandia, and How I Met Your Mother.

Yeah, all me really. All because of me. [both laugh]

Is there a major difference in method between working on TV and cinema, or is it once again a matter of doing the work?

Pretty much just doing the work, and I will say this: There’s no real master plan. Some of those assignments have been generated really because the creators of those shows were affected by my work with David Lynch. For Sex and the City, I think I was supposed to be on for just a couple of episodes and they extended it, which I was grateful for. It was a great show, the writing was so cool, and I love working in New York City and with Kristin Davis, who was great. The same thing happened with Desperate Housewives, I went to Marc Cherry and asked if there was any way they could keep me around for a little while, and they did a change in the writing and suddenly I was there for six years. I really enjoyed it, you know, and it’s fun to take a character and watch him go through different stuff. And, to be honest, it’s nice to have consistency in a job, as there are family considerations. I wasn’t exactly sure what Portlandia was supposed to be, but I was like, “You guys are super-smart, and it sounds like a lot of fun, what the heck.” How I Met Your Mother was the first time I’d ever done the half hour, four-camera format, and I loved it. I came into a very high-level functioning show, and that was also a lot of fun.

I promised myself that I would talk to you for at least 10 minutes before springing any Twin Peaks questions. I know you’ve been Twin Peaks’d to death.

[laughs] Not at all. There’s a lot to talk about. It’s complicated.

I particularly adore The Return, which I’ve seen several times from start to finish. One of the more startling differences between the original Twin Peaks and The Return of course is that the latter requires you to give at least four different performances. And you toggle between them beautifully, not showing your work at all. Did you get the whole script at once?

No. After speaking with David sort of secretly in New York, we met together, not on the phone but in person, I didn’t see anything for a while. Later, when I visited him in Los Angeles, he would hand me like one of the “hours”—there weren’t really episodes, he called them “hours”—and I’d read through it by myself basically on lockdown. He didn’t want anything to get out anywhere, which I understand. And I began to put pieces together in terms of what he was asking me to do. I was thrilled and excited about the challenge but also, not frightened exactly, but it was a lot of responsibility.

If these characters don’t work, especially the dark character, Mr. C., if he doesn’t scare the pants off of you the show isn’t going to work. I’d never really done anything like that character before, but I felt that I’d gotten to a point in my career where I could. I don’t think I could’ve played it 15 years earlier. And I knew that David would be there to help me if I stumbled, and we could probably kick it together. As the character began to form, and it really was kind of piecemeal—finding the look, finding the voice, finding the dialogue, which gratefully was minimal. Gradually, it began to make sense to me.

The contrast between Mr. C and Dougie is especially disturbing.

Yeah, I’m much more of a Dougie. With him I felt like, “Oh, yeah, I’ve got this,” but as I got into it I found him even more difficult to play than Mr. C. I watched Peter Sellers in Being There and some early Buster Keaton just for the blankness, trying to figure out how my face would work. As Dougie, I’m basically a baby in all situations. You have to play as if you don’t know cause and effect. I made David laugh a lot, there were a lot of funny moments on the set. Something would just strike me and it would be entertaining to him, which I appreciated.

I thought you and David pulled off a good trick over the course of the show. At first you’re waiting for the real Agent Cooper to arrive, but by the end I’m missing Dougie.

Yeah, I think you’re right. And there’s also the recognition of once Cooper came back then Dougie was gone. Can’t we have both maybe?

So it sounds like that David didn’t tell you from day one that you’re playing like four or five people.

No, it was a continuous discovery. We’d read a couple of these hours, and, as we got closer to filming, the bible was given to me. It was a three-ring binder and quite thick as you can imagine, and I read through the entire thing. I tried to keep this entire world in my head and how it was turning and spinning. You just kind of absorb it, and you get a sense of what David is asking for. Day one comes, and we’re up in Seattle for the first portion of shooting, which was about six weeks. I wasn’t in that first part much to be honest, though I remember we’re outside the sheriff’s station that first day and I walk up to Andy and into the building as Mr. C. and it felt weird.

Playing that character you’re like an imposter in your own home town.

Kinda. And you’re carrying this massive secret. You want to say, “Hey, everybody, it’s me!” Mr. C wasn’t the most comfortable body to inhabit. I didn’t mind it, but it was tiring.

Mr. C has some pretty taboo-pushing scenes.

Oh yeah. Some of that stuff was very, very challenging. I know what you’re talking about and everybody was wonderful. For that show I was asked to do some things I’ve never had to do in my career.

You’ve had a number of projects with huge afterlives: Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, The Hidden, Showgirls, to name a few. Do you notice cycles in terms of what your fans approach you about?

It varies with whom I’m speaking of course. I recently did an interview and we talked about The Doors and that experience, and it’s kind of fun. This isn’t stuff that I typically think about much, but then something is brought up and you reminisce and revisit. I tend to look forward, but it’s nice to look back on something that I might’ve thought at the time could’ve been my last job. You never know what’s going to happen, but I’ve accumulated this great body of work. For the most part, I’m really proud of everything I’ve done and been involved with. I’m looking forward to more.