In The Valley Of Val - A Tribute To Val Edward Kilmer
Passively joking with friends on April Fools these days is quite redundant, as most of our political psyches are riddled with jagged jokes, foolishness, and eradicated idiocy as we continue to live out a narrative of science fiction chaos. A day when you could fake an injury to worry the wife or pretend the house is haunted to rile up the kids on a school night, these were the times cherished before summer break and endless nights yearning in the vastness of youth. A word for me that I reflect on daily and an element that aggressively appears in my world weekly, the youth quickly becomes a school of thought as we age. There are many people, places, and things to thank for harmoniously highlighting these fundamental features in our lives; I can’t think of a more iconic individual in this moment than the late great Val Edward Kilmer. Depending on what side of the moon you were born on, the late actor could represent the mighty Batman and The Doors’ Jim Morrison in the same breath. Hell, he even shared a moment with Dylan in Larry Charle’s 2003 drama Masked And Anonymous.
“That’s the joy of art - it should be dangerous and challenging but it’s just art - it’s safe.”
A perfect circle with many sides, Kilmer possessed my imagination as a kid, particularly his role as Bruce Wayne in the late Joel Schumacher’s 1995 classic Batman Forever. I still have my 1995 Disney Adventures issues from June and July depicting Jim Carrey as the Riddler and Kilmer in the stunning portrayal of the Dark Knight and my 1996 action figure that quickly followed after the movie’s summer release. A collection I cherish and hope to pass down, I can only imagine this was Kilmer’s ultimate end game as he continues to soar through our subconscious in death-defying style. An endlessly brilliant mind on and off the screen, Kilmer captured the electrifying essences of life, death, and rebirth in every character, situation, and sophisticated setting he placed himself in. Waking up to this cumbersome news, I pictured all his classic characters dying again. From Tombstone’s Doc Holiday to Oliver Stone’s epic exercise into the radical reality of James Douglas Morrison in The Doors, Kilmer lit up the world with a rare light that, without iconic film rolls, he would have put this energy into something else like exotic treasure hunting, or becoming a surfboard shaper somewhere off the coast of Australia. As much as he took his work and cinematic craft seriously, the actor had a flawless foundation that only he could master. Our mortal eyes feasted on the sensational status that possessed our minds, Kilmer will be remembered as all his cultural characters combined into one. At ease, Iceman.
