In this New York Times bestseller, legendary actor and star of the acclaimed documentary Val shares the stories behind his most beloved roles, reminisces about his star-studded career and love life, and reveals the truth behind his recent health struggles in a remarkably candid autobiography. Val Kilmer has played many iconic roles over his nearly four-decade film career. A table-dancing Cold … career. A table-dancing Cold War agent in Top Secret! A troublemaking science prodigy in Real Genius. A brash fighter pilot in Top Gun. A swashbuckling knight in Willow. A lovelorn bank robber in Heat. A charming master of disguise in The Saint. A wise-cracking detective in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Of course, Batman, Jim Morrison and the sharp-shooting Doc Holliday.
But who is the real Val Kilmer? With I’m Your Huckleberry–published ahead of next summer’s highly anticipated sequel Top Gun: Maverick, in which Kilmer returns to the big screen as Tom “Iceman” Kazansky–the enigmatic actor at last steps out of character and reveals his true self.
In this uniquely assembled memoir–featuring vivid prose, snippets of poetry and rarely-seen photos–Kilmer reflects on his acclaimed career, including becoming the youngest actor ever admitted to the Juilliard School’s famed drama department, determinedly campaigning to win the lead part in The Doors, and realizing a years-long dream of performing a one-man show as his hero Mark Twain. He shares candid stories of working with screen legends Marlon Brando, Tom Cruise, Robert Downey Jr. and Robert De Niro, and recounts high-profile romances with Cher, Cindy Crawford, Daryl Hannah, and former wife Joanne Whalley. He chronicles his spiritual journey and lifelong belief in Christian Science, and describes travels to far-flung locales such as a scarcely inhabited island in the Indian Ocean where he suffered from delirium and was cared for by the resident tribe. And he reveals details of his recent throat cancer diagnosis and recovery–about which he has disclosed little until now.
While containing plenty of tantalizing celebrity anecdotes, I’m Your Huckleberry–taken from the famous line Kilmer delivers as Holliday in Tombstone–is ultimately a singularly written and deeply moving reflection on mortality and the mysteries of life.
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I found it interesting the take he has about him being difficult to work with, brushing past it like it’s no big deal. Reading other autobiographies where the same movies are talked about, they usually dwell on what a diva and absolute jerk Val Kilmer was during filming. To listen to him tell it, he was in his own world with his spirituality and his deep dive into character.
Some of the stories are good, and his childhood is definitely interesting, but overall he glosses over his negatives and points a lot of fingers at others.
This extraordinary autobiography by Val Kilmer was good for my heart and soul.
“Death may come, Dylan may come. And there isn’t much we can do about it.” ~ Val Kilmer
“Passion, focus, and unpredictability,” – in the Actors Studio interview in 2001, Val Kilmer used these words to describe himself. He is also enigmatic and idealistic, charming, perplexing, and purely, completely himself. I completed I’m Your Huckleberry, his 305 page autobiography, within two days after seeing the documentary VAL and wanting to know more about this incredibly creative person; I could not put the book down. If you don’t have a smattering of a crush and fall in love with him at least a half a dozen times while reading his autobiography, you’re a stronger person than I am.
The book is a stunning, poetic work of art. HE is a poetic work of art who loves to learn from art. Val says, “Like all true stories, mine includes extreme chiaroscuro, dazzling light and wretched darkness.” Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
In my opinion, Val is one of our greatest actors; don’t believe me, watch him as Doc Holliday, Mark Twain, Jim Morrison, and more. “To get into Jim’s cloudy mind, I required absolute clarity.”
Post tracheotomy, Val still lives on his own passionate terms and shares with readers raw from his heart (with a splash of internal rhyming and alliteration) his poetry, humor, hopes, dreams both literal and figuratively, and a gorgeous, guileless nature. He writes about his loves, losses, and instinctual, proactive, non-practical (but sometimes practical) artistic choices. His is a truly fascinating, intense life; not many trines in his astrology I’d guess.
He was born to be a great actor, “losing himself and finding himself at the same time,” and does so fully. “What does it mean to be called a ham? Was I am ham? I was naturally and inordinately theatrical. I liked to carry on. I liked attention. I liked extravagant speech. I like to emote. I liked to talk. It didn’t matter that I usually didn’t know what I was talking about. And I loved it when dramatists elevated talk to poetry. So I did the same. I started writing dramas and poems. Some might have been painfully bad, but some might have shown signs of promise.”
Also this: “Gaining a reputation as a cooperative thespian is not a bad thing. I do not condemn my brothers and sisters who have developed personalities pleasing to directors. I have, in fact, pleased dozens of directors. Others I have not. And when I have not, it isn’t through ego. It’s simply because i have connected with a character and must honor that connection. How to do that is an ongoing lesson…”
Val, who was “more accustomed to giving passion, less familiar with receiving it” on a filmset, shares so richly of his experiences I felt them. As a poetic traveler and Shakespearean, who dislikes the Valley where I was raised for a few years, I relate deeply to many of Val’s life themes including this: “Lose Chatsworth, find Elizabethan England. Find Shakespeare. And having found Shakespeare, never look back,” and traipsing through the green Irish countryside and reading out loud Yeats’ immortal “The Lake of Innisfree,” and loving Harry Nilsson and Bob Dylan.
Some bits of his book are purely poetic:
“Marlon was my guy. It wasn’t about being flawlessly eloquent like Lawrence Olivier or John Gielgud. It wasn’t about being suave like Cary Grant or homespun like Gary Cooper. It was about the power of silence. The long, pregnant pause. The understatement. The boiling subtext. The unexpressed. The mystery. The mumbling. Trying as we all do in life to make sense of a moment. The rage that remains inside. The penetrating look. Eyes slightly shifting. Lips slightly curling. The beauty of subterfuge.”
Some are funny:
“It goes like this, Val,” he said, “I’m the bad guy. You’re the good guy.” ~ Sam Shepard to Val during the filming of Thunderheart when Val got wrapped up in character dissection.
Some sad and observant:
Writing about the paramedics who came to get him when he threw up blood in Cher’s guesthouse: “I was barely able to stand. When they put me on a stretcher and got me inside, they kept yapping about their recent bowling tournament. I was hardly reassured.”
Some heartrending and insightful:
And after losing his speech due to the tracheotomy: “They say that when one of your five senses is compromised, you can feel the others become heightened. My speech was compromised, but I was seeing and feeling things I had never seen or felt before.”
Some are just all that:
“When I stopped focusing on finding that perfect wife, that energy stream was channeled into other equally wild and mystical avenues. I longed for a deeper layer of self-exploration. I made a decision that, rather than looking for Love, I would let Love be me, Let Love be my life, Let Love seep through the pages of this, my life story.”
I haven’t this kind of powerful reaction to a book in decades. Val’s book spoke to me.
Very interesting details about the life of a one of a kind actor