Val Kilmer Has Passed Away, and It Hurts More Than I Expected

I don't even know where to start with this one. Val Kilmer has passed away at the age of 65 from pneumonia, and I just need a moment to sit with that. This one hurts more than I expected. Maybe it's because Val wasn't just a great actor—he was my actor. He somehow managed to be in almost every corner of my childhood, like he was the secret ingredient that made all my favorite things better.

Let's start where I fell in love with his work: Top Secret!—which, to this day, is still my favorite comedy of all time. Forget Airplane! or Naked Gun, this was the gold standard of absurdist humor. And Val wasn't just in it—he committed to it. he was Elvis, he was James Bond, he was Looney Tunes with perfect hair. That legendary reversed German bookstore scene? He memorized the entire thing backwards, in German!. Two full minutes, in one take, for a joke that flies by in the blink of an eye. That's not just funny—that's genius. That's dedication.

Then came Willow. Ah, Madmartigan. The reluctant hero, the roguish swordsman, That fantasy Han Solo, the guy who could be hilarious one moment and deeply moving the next. I wanted to be Madmartigan. I probably tried to flip a sword around like he did and nearly took out a lamp.

He was also unforgettable as Iceman in Top Gun, going toe-to-toe with Tom Cruise and somehow managing to be just as cool, if not cooler. And yes, he was amazing in The Doors, Tombstone, and a dozen other movies that people will rightfully celebrate in the days to come.

But for me? He'll always be Batman.

Say what you will about 'Batman Forever' (and you should—because it's a neon-soaked fever dream of studio interference and bad corporate decisions), but Kilmer himself? He was a fantastic Bruce Wayne. Maybe the best Bruce Wayne. He had the elegance, the melancholy, the quiet torment, and that natural, effortless charisma. Unlike Keaton's quirky loner or Bale's performative billionaire, Kilmer's Bruce actually felt like a guy who could walk into a boardroom and turn heads—while also harboring deep emotional scars behind the eyes.

He didn't always get the best material to work with (hello, Bat-nipples), and the movie itself was more concerned with selling Happy Meals than exploring Bruce's psyche. But Kilmer brought a gravitas and charm that hinted at something deeper, something truly special. He could've been one of the greats, if only they hadn't drowned him in fluorescent lighting and placed Jim Carrey next to him to steal the lime-light.

He deserved better. We all did.

Kilmer never got the Batman sequel he deserved. Instead, he became one of those actors people quietly admired without always giving him his due.

Well, I'm giving it now.

Rest in peace, Val. Thanks for being the coolest swordsman, the funniest spy, and—at least in my heart—the best Bruce Wayne.