Val Kilmer documentary shows a man who won’t give in to self-pity
We’ve heard about Val Kilmer’s recent health problems. We know his voice has been ravaged by throat cancer.
Even so, it’s shocking when Kilmer first appears onscreen in “Val,” seemingly a shell of the man who was Iceman, Tom Cruise’s rival in “Top Gun,” Jim Morrison in “The Doors” and Doc Holliday in “Tombstone.” Where once he seemed arrogant, ambitious and oh-so talented, here he seems frail and in transition.
“Healing isn’t vanity, it’s honesty,” Kilmer, now 61, says.
“Val” operates as a sort of a CliffsNotes version of his autobiography published last year, “I’m Your Huckleberry: A Memoir.” The film, directed by Leo Scott and Ting Poo, is a reckoning by a man with regrets amid his triumphs, but no greater success than his two children, Jack and Mercedes, who serve as executive producers.
Jack is the narrator, giving voice to his father’s words, which flow with poetic simplicity.
“I have lived a magical life,” he says, and so he has.
The problem with documentaries made by their subjects is, obviously, their one-sided view. For example, Kilmer had a reputation as being difficult to work with, and had a messy, financially devastating divorce with British actress Joanne Whalley. Yet, while acknowledging both, he addresses neither seriously in “Val” — although Whalley does pop up later in the film in a wordless cameo, apparently still in his life.
But the strength of these types of documentaries, at least the good ones, is that they’re personal. Confessionals, even slanted ones, can be revealing, and here, that is the case. But what really puts “Val” over the top was Kilmer’s habit, since he was a teenager, of constantly filming. There is so much Kilmer-filmed footage that he gets sole cinematography credit.
He was an early adopter of the first consumer videotape cameras. He and his two brothers, Wesley and Mark, made their own movies as kids, and we see clips from a few — including a young Val hilariously imitating Robert Shaw’s Quint in “Jaws.”
Wesley, who directed most of these productions and who Val says was the most talented of the bunch, died at 15, drowning after having an epileptic seizure. “My confidant had turned to dust,” Val says. “My family was never the same again.”
Kilmer, who grew up in the San Fernando Valley, carted the video camera with him when he went to The Juilliard School in New York, where he was the youngest ever admitted to the Drama Division. In an early post-graduate success, he co-starred on the off-Broadway stage in “The Slab Boys” with Kevin Bacon and Sean Penn (as he was recording backstage, they mooned him).
That eventually led to his big Hollywood break, the lead in the Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker slapstick mess that was “Top Secret!” From then on, as his career soared, Kilmer — classically trained, well-read and always well-prepared — was simultaneously troubled and seduced by Hollywood success. On “Top Gun,” which made him a true star, he felt the script was shallow, so he created a backstory to his character as an unloved son, so he brought an extra edge to his competition with Cruise’s Maverick — on and off set.
That the film turned out way better than he expected was a lesson to him in showmanship, courtesy of director Tony Scott and producers Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simpson.
But Kilmer always craved for something more, and other than “The Doors,” he never quite got it. He was constantly making his own audition tapes to foist onto directors he wanted to work with — included are fascinating clips from tapes he made for Stanley Kubrick for “Full Metal Jacket” and Martin Scorsese for “Goodfellas” — he was cast in neither.
Most sad in “Val” are the scenes of Kilmer traveling to public appearances — in Austin, where “Tombstone” is beloved; at Comic-Con for his one film as Batman in “Batman Forever” — in order to make ends meet. Kilmer admits he was at first depressed at having to do that, but now is “grateful,” as meeting his fans in person gives him an emotional lift.
And yet, “Val” doesn’t feel sorry for itself. He has returned to creating art, an early passion as a teenager, and owns a space for fellow artists. He has his children. And he has his faith.
The Val Kilmer we meet has been in the arena, realizes he has been lucky, and has now achieved what we hope is a lasting peace. His physical voice might be gone, but his inner voice still has much to say.