Val is now streaming on Amazon Prime Video.
It’s hard to sum up the high highs and low lows of Val Kilmer’s career since the early ‘90s, but that’s just what Val, Amazon Prime’s engrossing and insightful new documentary, takes on. Directors Leo Scott and Ting Poo skillfully situate Kilmer’s career choices and trajectory within a larger examination of the very nature of stardom itself, juxtaposing decades of archival footage (amassed by the man himself) against his current situation as he recovers from throat cancer, with a double tracheotomy making it difficult for him to speak in anything past a hoarse croak.
With Kilmer mostly unable to talk for himself, he turned to his son, Jack, to read his narration, and the younger Kilmer’s voice sounds so hauntingly similar to his father’s younger years it’s easy to lose ourselves in the illusion that it’s Val himself speaking to us from across the chasm of time. Walking us through his life and career in linear fashion, the documentary has ample discussion (and footage) of his early years and family life (including the trauma of losing his brother at an early age) before he made the leap to stage and screen.
In hindsight, it’s rather remarkable just how much of his life Kilmer managed to capture on home video, with young stars like Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon, and Tom Cruise flitting in at various moments. Long before the ubiquity of cell phones made it practically second nature for many, Kilmer did all this when it actually took effort. And while one could be tempted to say that’s the narcissism of an actor at work, the truth is Kilmer did a tremendous service both for himself and us in capturing small behind-the-scenes moments that would otherwise be lost to the ages.
Things like shooting the breeze with Rick Rossovich between takes of Top Gun, watching Kurt Russell don his Wyatt Earp getup on Tombstone, and rocking Marlon Brando in a hammock on the set of The Island of Dr. Moreau are all testament to a remarkable life, something Kilmer himself is acutely aware of, especially given the distance of time. The omnipresent video camera also ended up capturing moments such as Kilmer and actor David Thewlis arguing with the late John Frankenheimer on the famously fraught Dr. Moreau set, with the director finally losing his cool over being constantly recorded.
Given just how big of a star Kilmer was at one time and how many big movies he got to be a part of, these snippets of interaction are obviously exciting for any film buff to witness, but they also offer a useful framework of how he views himself –– then and now.
One of the most poignant found footage moments for me wasn’t from a set at all, though; it was a simple scene of Kilmer putting his son in a coin-operated Batmobile from Batman Forever, the kind you see outside a grocery store, allowing the child to experience the innocent joy of being Batman in a way Kilmer himself never really felt while playing the role. We also get a peek into his romance with ex-wife Joanne Whalley, from their whirlwind wedding to their eventual separation and arguments over child visitation. It can feel uncomfortably voyeuristic at times, but it’s nonetheless necessary if the goal is to take in the totality of the man.
In that sense, it’s unquestionably bittersweet to see the archival Kilmer in the ‘80s and ‘90s, speaking so confidently of himself and his craft, and then cutting to him in present day, mostly making do by attending conventions and special events where he interacts with fans and signs autographs. While it’s no doubt rewarding to know your work has touched audiences and continues to entertain them, Kilmer himself seems, if not saddened, then resigned to the reality of his “top of the marquee” days likely being behind him. Of course, that realization also allows him to speak with a candor and clarity about his career that’s refreshing and never catty, guided wonderfully by the directors' steady hands.