Movie stardom rarely occurs overnight. Yes, there is typically a film where the star “arrives,” but this performance usually comes after a series of supporting turns in movies or TV shows where they’ve swiped a scene or two. Eddie Murphy rocketed to fame via “48 Hrs.,” but this came as no surprise to anyone who’d been watching him kill it on “Saturday Night Live.” It might’ve felt like Peter O’Toole exploded out of nowhere in “Lawrence of Arabia,” but his portrayal of a too-credulous guard in “The Day They Robbed the Bank of England” put moviegoers on notice that he was a special talent. And Julia Roberts popped in ensemble films like “Satisfaction” and “Mystic Pizza” before becoming America’s sweetheart in “Pretty Woman.”
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When I rolled out of bed on the morning of June 22, 1984, Val Kilmer did not exist. When I came home from the movies that night, he was one of the biggest stars in the world to me.
As rock-and-roll sensation Nick Rivers in “Top Secret!,” Kilmer was a revelation. He had Elvis Presley’s swagger, a veteran comedic actor’s flawless timing, and a singing voice that could’ve easily landed him a recording contract had he pursued one. Most importantly, from my 10-year-old perspective, he’d been anointed by three of my filmmaking gods: David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker. This was their follow-up to the ZAZ team’s instant classic “Airplane!,” which made it my most anticipated movie of the summer. And Kilmer flat out aced the assignment, effortlessly strutting a fine line between silly and cool. He was so not Mel Tormé.
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I was fairly certain I’d found a new favorite movie star — or, at least, an actor whose presence signaled guaranteed belly laughs à la Eddie Murphy. When Kilmer delivered a brainiac variation on his clown game as Chris Knight in Martha Coolidge’s “Real Genius,” the age of Val seemed to be upon us. Kilmer, however, had other ideas.
Over the next several decades, the Julliard-trained actor — who passed away on April 1, 2025, at the age of 65 — would occasionally flash his comedy chops. For the most part, though, Kilmer focused on serious roles into which he could vanish. He became an actor’s actor (and, by his own admission, a bit of a diva). He was always interesting and often brilliant, but there were no more Nick Rivers or Chris Knights. While I’m grateful for every single performance he left us, I wish to hell he’d done more comedy because he was uniquely spectacular at it.
