Val Kilmer was more than an actor; he was an artist, a chameleon, a guy who seemed to slip into every character with an intensity that made it impossible not to watch him. It wasn't just a question of talent, which he had plenty of, but of a magnetic presence that elevated every project he was in. At times, Hollywood didn't know what to do with him, and at others, he himself seemed to shy away from the big star game. But one thing is certain: he left us a cinematic legacy that any film lover should celebrate.
For many, the gateway to his filmography was ‘Top Gun’ (1986). His Iceman, with that icy, defiant arrogance, was not only a memorable antagonist for Tom Cruise, but perfectly represented the competitive spirit of military aviation. But if you stopped there, you missed Kilmer's versatility. In ‘The Doors’ (1991), his transformation into Jim Morrison was so absolute that even the band members were amazed. He wasn't imitating Morrison; he was invoking him, channelling him. And then, in ‘Tombstone’ (1993), he brought to life cinema's best Doc Holliday, a decadent gunslinger with an irresistible blend of melancholy and sardonic humour. ‘I'm your huckleberry’ became an immortal phrase, because only someone with Kilmer's presence could utter it with such fatalism and charm.
The general public remembers him with divided opinion for ‘Batman Forever’ (1995). Yes, he was a less tormented and more restrained Bruce Wayne than Keaton or Bale, but Kilmer brought an understated elegance to the role. Perhaps the script and direction didn't do him justice, but his performance deserved more recognition. Then came challenges that few actors would accept: ‘The Saint’ (1997), where he played multiple identities with the skill of an illusionist, and ‘The Ghost and the Darkness’ (1996), where he shared the screen with Michael Douglas in one of those adventures that are no longer filmed today. And we can't forget ‘Heat’ (1995), where, amidst a cast of titans like De Niro and Pacino, Kilmer managed to be an equally unforgettable character with very few words and a lot of intensity.
What made Kilmer special, however, was not only his successes, but his audacity to take risks. Sometimes those risks led him to projects that didn't quite work out, like ‘The Island of Dr. Moreau’ (1996), a chaotic production where his talent got caught up in a shooting disaster. Or his foray into independent films and smaller roles in recent years, where he still showed flashes of that unique spark. His battle with cancer robbed him of his voice as we knew it, but not of his desire to tell stories. The documentary ‘Val’ (2021) showed us his most vulnerable and authentic side, a love letter to cinema and to his own career. And when he returned as Iceman in ‘Top Gun: Maverick’ (2022), if only for a brief moment, it was impossible not to be thrilled to see him back on screen.
He never was the typical Hollywood leading man. He didn't fit the formula of the conventional hero or the easily typecast star. He was a character actor trapped in the body of a heartthrob, a man who loved acting as a true art. Today, remembering him, I don't think of the tragedy of his illness or what might have been. I think of his burning gaze in ‘The Doors’, his defiant smile in ‘Tombstone’, the quiet complexity of his role in ‘Heat’. I think of an artist who left us something real, something that transcends. And for that, he will always be part of the cinema we love.