Today, the entertainment world mourns the loss of one of its most polarizing but respected figures. Val Kilmer, star of such films as “Tombstone,” “The Doors,” and a series of sexually confusing dreams I keep having, has died of pneumonia at the age of 65.
Throughout his career, Kilmer’s unapologetic self-seriousness made him tedious but undeniably magnetic. His Batman movie is often derided, but no actor quite captured the complexity of Bruce Wayne like Kilmer. It’s hard to imagine anyone else as Jim Morrison. It’s outright impossible to envision any other actor walking in on a tryst I was having with my third grade math teacher Mrs. Hinterland and making snarky criticisms about my performance.
Like any genius of a craft, Kilmer could often be difficult to work with. Throughout his career he had highly publicized clashes with some of the top directors in Hollywood. His prima donna antics on the set of “The Island of Dr. Moreau” were legendary, and partially blamed for the film’s failure. The moment he realized his snarky taunts at my sexual prowess were arousing me, he started giving me the silent treatment. Still, the man’s work and the stains on my sheets speak for themselves.
Kilmer was that rare breed of actor whose choices made it impossible to take your eyes off of him. You never quite knew what he was going to do moment to moment. There was an irresistible danger to him, like when Iceman suddenly chomps at Maverick in “Top Gun,” or how all the sudden we would be on a boat, just me and him, the latter dressed as Mark Twain, slowly removing his prosthetics and then removing everything else, his toasted-chestnut skin soaking in the sun, my hungry eyes soaking in every inch of his immaculate body.
His attitude may have stunted his career. At one point it seemed he was on track to become a leading man on par with Tom Cruise, who is too short for me, but as his difficult reputation grew he found himself relegated to supporting roles, and eventually my homoerotic dreams shifted to Idris Elba. At the end of the day, however, it was that somewhat volatile streak that set his work apart and made it special, a fact that he fortunately seemed to come to terms with at the end of his life.
Rest in peace Val Kilmer. Whether we’re looking for a blockbuster film whose lead is unafraid of making strong choices or subconsciously coming to terms with the internalized shame of our latent bisexuality, you’ll always be our huckleberry.