Val Kilmer died on April Fool’s Day, which––from what I’ve heard about his character––seems to be appropriate for such a mercurial personality.
He’s not a singular or important celebrity to me––I don’t consider him an inspiration or role model in any capacity. Most of what I know about him was tabloid reporting that percolated through the news during his lifetime. I knew his final years were pretty rough, but he seemed to have a positive attitude about things and even filmed and released a documentary––titled Val––though I never saw it despite good reviews.
For me, Kilmer is more about a clutch of roles that really stood out to me––the characters he played and, according to many of his coworkers, inhabited which made them memorable. Standout examples are his small but impactful role as Tom “Iceman” Kazansky in Top Gun, his unforgettable turn as Doc Holliday in the goofy fun western, Tombstone, and his stellar performance as the straight-laced private investigator, Gay Perry, in the phenomenal Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
However, it was Val Kilmer’s role as the scruffy swordsman Madmartigan in the 1988 fantasy film, Willow, that will forever be my memory of the actor. Willow is an important movie for me. There’s a strong nostalgia to it––I was only seven years old when it released––as it was one of the first pieces (if not the first) of fantasy fiction I had seen and I was the absolute right age to see it. As an adult, I still think it holds together pretty well. The characters are unique, distinct, and memorable, and––as an adult––it distinguishes itself from other fantasy epics in that it doesn’t really fall into the lore and roles established by Tolkein. However, I have to admit it’s basically fantasy Star Wars, and that’s fine.
After Kilmer’s death, I found I was not so much thinking about him as I was about Madmartigan, a character so interesting and, at times anachronistic that it borders on stupidity. But Kilmer’s performance makes it work. He’s a roguish scoundrel with a heart of gold who, even when he’s stumbling around or cross-dressing to hide from pursuers, is always cool and funny. When I think of that archetype, I think of Madmartigan, not Han Solo or Lando Calrissian or (more recently) Captain Mal Reynolds (from Firefly) or Iron Man.
So, the thing I realized in the wake of Kilmer’s death––and what I am thankful for and appreciate about his work––is that his Madmartigan was my Han Solo. So, rather than draw a likeness to share on social media and post some sad words, I did something different. Instead, I illustrated what Kilmer’s work meant to me, which meant sharing what Madmartigan means to me.
I did try to do the more saccharin likeness, but it wasn’t coming together––and I’m glad it didn’t. Instead, I kept coming back to the scene where we meet Madmartigan, left in a hanging iron cell to rot. After meeting Willow and his friend, Meegosh, they’re interrupted by an army that marches past them––off to war, presumably. They’re led by a flamboyantly gilded general named Airk who recognizes the man in the cage. Despite wanting out––and an offer to be let out to help fight the war––Madmartigan rebuffs Airk saying he’d rather rot in a cage than to be “herding sheep.”
Kilmer was a unique and powerful actor who left behind a memorable range of work that impacted many, but to me he will always be “the greatest swordsman who ever lived.”
