Of all the leading men who came of age in the ‘80s, Val Kilmer is the one I’ve always felt “got away.” That is to say, while his career has more than a respectable number of credits and performances, it just seemed like he should have been significant for longer. Kilmer was gifted at comedy, as his electric debut in the Zucker/Abrhams/Zucker spy spoof Top Secret! and his terrific cult teen comedy Real Genius will attest. While neither movie was a hit, both garnered the attention of Hollywood for Kilmer’s star-in-the-making charisma. Of course, Kilmer’s big break would come in just his third film, Top Gun, where he played “Iceman,” the nemesis to Tom Cruise’s “Maverick” in the massive hit film about Naval fighter pilots honing their skills at an elite academy. Cruise and Kilmer popped right off the screen with their good looks and swagger, but I’ll be damned if their roles couldn’t have easily been reversed and set Val Kilmer on an entirely different career track.
That isn’t to say that what followed Kilmer’s remarkable initial trifecta of films didn’t include several gems. Still, he was never able to gain the same foothold in the industry that Cruise did (although, to be fair, has anyone done what Cruise has?). His first film as a lead in a big-budget production was as a swordsman in the Ron Howard-directed disappointment, Willow. Reviews for Willow were negative, and the box office was unspectacular, although you will find fans of the film who love the fantasy genre.
Kilmer bounced back quickly from the failure of Willow and went on a six-year run that established him as one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. First came John Dahl’s little-seen but very good neo-noir Kill Me Again, which found playing across his wife Joanne Whalley-Kilmer who made for quite the femme-fatale in Dahl’s grim little thriller from 1989. Kilmer took two years off after that and came up with what many consider the role of his life, as The Doors’ Jim Morrison in Oliver Stone’s wild (and wildly entertaining) biopic, The Doors. To take on the task of playing such a legendary and mysterious icon might have been daunting to most actors, and who knows, maybe Kilmer was a nervous wreck before shooting the film, but my goodness, what a performance he gave. There is acting, and there is channelling. Val Kilmer didn’t act the part of Jim Morrison; he channeled the long gone rock god’s persona. Somehow, come Oscar time, Kilmer was overlooked. But one thing I’ve learned since I’ve been writing about entertainment is that awards may look good on a mantle, but the performances we remember most don’t need them to ascend to the pantheon. Kilmer’s Morrison is an example of how the top of the mountain can be reached without a gold statue in hand.
In his next film, the sturdy murder mystery Thunderheart, Kilmer starred as an FBI agent paired with Sam Shepard for director Michael Apted. Inspired in part by Apted’s documentary Incident at Oglala (about the saga of Leonard Peltier), Thunderheart takes a thoughtful and empathetic look at life on a Native-American reservation. While the film is compelling enough as a thriller, its real strength is in showcasing the indigenous peoples living in government-sponsored poverty on reservations. As dynamic as Kilmer was in The Doors, he moves in the opposite direction here, largely underplaying his young fed, and reflecting the pain and frustration of the native population he’s interrogating and investigating. Kilmer was only thirty-three at the time, but in just eight years since his film debut in 1984, he had already shown that he could do absolutely anything on screen. He could be funny, subtle, mean, sympathetic, and when required, go as big as one of the biggest rock stars to take the stage.
Even in a largely unseen part that I’m just going to describe as the apparition of Elvis, Kilmer was magnetic. In Tony Scott’s fire-breathing take on the Quentin Tarantino-scripted True Romance, Kilmer would appear, off to the side and slightly out of focus whenever Christian Slater’s way-in-over-his-head comic book clerk-turned-drug dealer needed some words of advice or a confidence boost. You never see Kilmer’s face in full a single time, but he somehow elevates the movie beyond its pulpy origins with nothing more than his voice and partial presence. He’s barely physically there, yet he somehow owns his small handful of scenes.
While Kilmer did have a couple of better-off-forgotten films during his golden stretch (The Real McCoy and Wings of Courage), the back end of his peak era sure was something. While I have never been much of a fan of the western Tombstone, Kilmer’s Doc Holliday may well be his best-loved role. Dying of tuberculosis, Holliday’s degenerate gambler/gunslinger stands by Kurt Russell’s Wyatt Earp through thick and thin, with whatever his ailing body has left to muster. Most people quote Kilmer’s famous line, “I’ll be your Huckleberry,” when facing down an enemy. But a friend of mine reminded me of a more profound moment in this very messy (and misogynistic) film that speaks to just how much Kilmer saved Tombstone from its own excesses. As a member of Earp’s group, getting ready to face down the dastardly Clanton Gang, Holliday rises from a burnt-out campfire, only to double over, coughing and choking due to his declining health. He’s then asked by a character named Turkey Creek Jack Johnson (played by Buck Taylor), “What are you doing out here, Doc? You should be in bed.” Holliday replies, “Wyatt Earp is my friend.” Johnson responds, “Hell, I got lots of friends.” Holliday ends the conversation with two simple words: “I don’t.” The weight of those two words lands just as they would if spoken by a dying man whose last lingering virtue is his loyalty to his friend.
I suppose once someone has played Jim Morrison and Doc Holliday, the next step is to be Batman, and that’s just what he did with Batman Forever in 1995, a continuation of the two films Tim Burton made with Michael Keaton, but director Joel Schumacher and Kilmer taking over as director and star, respectively. Batman Forever is no one’s idea of a great superhero film, but you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who had an issue with Kilmer as Bruce Wayne/Batman. Kilmer was also smart enough not to return for the disaster that was Batman & Robin.
That same year, Kilmer made the greatest film of his life: Michael Mann’s definitive cops and robbers thriller, HEAT. Kilmer may have been third-billed after Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro, but as DeNiro’s closest member of his gang of high-class thieves, Kilmer was outstanding. While Kilmer didn’t share any scenes with Pacino, he did appear in several with DeNiro, who gave one of the best performances of his storied career. There is never a second in one of their scenes together where you have even the slightest thought that Kilmer wasn’t up to the task. Going toe-to-toe with DeNiro on one of his best days is no easy feat, but Kilmer made it look effortless. There is a moment when DeNiro’s master thief Neil McCauley asks Kilmer’s hungover Chris Shiherlis why he doesn’t get out of his troubled marriage with Charlene (played by a dynamite Ashley Judd), and Kilmer responds, “For me, the sun rises and sets with her.” I’ll be damned if it doesn’t just about break your heart. As Mann said of Kilmer, “While working with Val on Heat, I always marvelled at the range, the brilliant variability within the powerful current of Val’s possessing and expressing character.”
Kilmer was just thirty-six when he made HEAT, seemingly at the peak of his powers, but despite Mann’s heartfelt praise, Kilmer developed a reputation for being “difficult” on set. While there are very mixed opinions on Kilmer’s behavior while filming, directors like Schumacher and Frankenheimer held brutal opinions of him. Tombstone co-star Michael Biehn once said of Kilmer, “People ask me what it’s like to work with Val Kilmer. I don’t know. Never met him. Never shook his hand. I know Doc Holliday, but I don’t know [Kilmer].” That last comment could also be applied to Daniel Day-Lewis, but whatever the case, the reputation stuck, and when big-budget films starring Kilmer like The Island of Dr. Moreau (directed by Frankenheimer), The Ghost and the Darkness, The Saint, and At First Sight, flopped, Kilmer quickly fell off the A-list.
Certainly, there were some high points here and there. Kilmer’s performances as an abusive dad in Joe the King, as Willem DeKooning in Pollock, the sorely underrated noir The Salton Sea, David Mamet’s Spartan, his terrific “buddy comedy” Kiss Kiss Bang Bang with Robert Downey Jr., and the gonzo Werner Herzog film Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans were all quality resume stuffers, but none of them led to the comeback Kilmer’s talent deserved.
Then came the deepest cut of all: somewhere around 2015, Kilmer developed throat cancer. Being a devoted Christian Scientist, he delayed treatment for two years. Kilmer continued to work through 2022, but with one of an actor’s most significant tools failing him (his voice), his output steadily decreased. His final film was the long-in-coming Top Gun: Maverick, where he reprised his role as the “Iceman” opposite Tom Cruise. In a film made to make billions, he and Cruise’s final scene together is a genuine tearjerker. Kilmer’s illness was worked into the screenplay. For all the fancy aerial acrobatics in Maverick, watching those two actors who made it big at the same time but saw their careers go in very different directions, the genuine empathy and emotion between them was far more palpable than the nostalgia of seeing them in the same scene together one last time.
The year before Top Gun: Maverick, Kilmer made a documentary about his life: the simply titled Val. In the film, Kilmer lays everything out on the screen: His failing health, the poor decisions he made, and the times when he wished he had behaved better, but he also celebrated the uniqueness of his life. This was a man who knew he was going to die, and he saved one great artistic statement for last. Val is a bold and bracing film about a man with some regrets but also much to be thankful for.
About seven years ago, Kilmer did an “Ask Me Anything” session on Reddit.
He was asked, “What was your experience like working on Heat?”
“Well imagine being able to say, “Al and Bob” for the rest of your life. Not many people can do that. I have seen Bob, giggling like a school girl in a van in the middle of the night, because we have to be quiet cause they are filming outside… I have been hugged by Al Pacino in the middle of downtown LA like he was my older brother. I have shot live rounds from high powered assault weapons over Bob’s head while rehearsing lines from our film. I got to kiss Ashley Judd. I sometimes lived at Michael Mann’s house. I am in one of the greatest cops and robbers films in film history, has to be in the top 20. I am on the poster, for goodness sake. What an honor. Priceless experience. Watching ALL the actors do their thing. We all work hard, but when you are with the icons, you get really squared. I loved every minute of it.”
That’s a pretty damn good epitaph.
Val Kilmer died on April 1, 2025. He was 65 years old.
