Val Kilmer the actor is dead at 65. But the characters that Kilmer brought to life will never die.
Val Kilmer the man came from a middle class beginning. Pairing a committed work-ethic to his extraordinary beauty, he built himself into a star. After graduating from Juilliard in NYC he started, and ended, his career in the purist of dramatic mediums: the theater. On stage, without special effects, or multiple takes, the actor is alone with the audience. Kilmer perfected his skills and became one of the most iconic actors of his generation. Along the way he played icons and pariahs, brought dead men back to life, and breathed reality into fictional ones.
Kilmer was a talented singer and a poet, but screen acting was his master craft, and he gave everything he had to it. Few actors approach their profession with the same dedication. He memorized the lyrics to every Jim Morrison song before being cast as The Doors. He spent months practicing Chopin’s “Nocturne in E minor, Op.72, No. 1” for Tombstone. His Tombstone co-star Michael Biehn described working with Kilmer “I don’t know. Never met him. Never shook his hand. I know Doc Holliday, but I don’t know [Kilmer].”
Kilmer turned down lucrative roles for a number of reasons. He turned down a potential massive career break with a role in The Outsiders to honor prior commitments to theater performances, and stepped away from playing Batman franchise when it became clear it was turning into mediocrity. Kilmer’s rare zeal for his craft led to a reputation in Hollywood that he was “difficult to work with.” The number of screen roles he was offered began to decline. His star faded, but his acting did not. He continued performing on screen and on the stage until his health began failing him.
Kilmer was the classical thespian personified, one of the last of a breed, and a dying breed: a versatile performer who made every character he played come to life. Kilmer’s three most famous: Doc Holliday in Tombstone, Chris Shiherlis in Heat, and Iceman in Top Gun are more memorable characters from their films than the lead. Doc Holliday, for example, is a man with deep flaws: a crooked gambler, a murderer, and a whoremonger. A man weakened by a chronic disease made worse by his predilection for vice. But he is also a man of great wit and loyalty. Holliday’s reasoning for supporting Wyatt Earp despite his failing health moves even the most jaded hearts.
“Because Wyatt Earp is my friend.”
“Hell,” replied Jack Johnson. “I’ve got lots of friends.”
“I don’t.”
Only Kilmer could have made the desperation of a loner and a loser into the commitment of a lethal loyalist. In the uniquely American genre of Westerns, amidst all of the greats who have ever carried a gun on screen, Kilmer’s version of Doc Holliday was among the greatest.
In Top Gun, Iceman is the prototype of a naval officer: competent, by the book, a leader and a follower. He’s everything viewers should love, but we hated him, because Val Kilmer’s portrayal left us no choice. The way he smirked subtly, or stood perfectly erect at all times. Yet he also did his best to reach out to Tom Cruise’s Maverick after his friend’s death. As a child, I remember my father telling me that children hate Iceman and love Maverick, but Iceman is the type of man whose success can bring about real change. Kilmer’s character was the personification of the dichotomy between love and hate, the rebellious youth and the consummate professional.
At the end of the film he embraces Maverick. In the sequel, he is the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet and an Admiral who mentors a lost and misguided Maverick, still a Captain. Despite cancer taking Kilmer’s voice, he refused to use AI to recreate it. He leaned into the reality of the role, his own mortality and the incessant march of time. His character was his reality. He, like Iceman, was a once great man beset upon by the ravages of time and fate. He did not cower from this. He faced his fate through the power of his faith and the courage of his convictions, and never stopped working to improve those around him.
If the rebellious Maverick is who all youths strive to emulate, we can only hope we face our own inevitable demise as bravely as Iceman – and by proxy Kilmer – faced his. Val Kilmer the actor is dead at 65. But the Val Kilmer that will always live with us will live as long as we do.
Philip Voodoo is an American writer and a veteran. He can be followed @6Voodoo.
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