Val Kilmer Passes Away at 65: From the Batcave to the Burning Bush

Val Kilmer, the enigmatic and deeply talented actor whose voice brought to life both Moses and the voice of God in The Prince of Egypt, has died at the age of 65 from pneumonia on Tuesday, April 1, 2025 in Los Angeles. With a career spanning more than four decades, Kilmer was a rare kind of artist—one who could channel both power and vulnerability, darkness and light, and in doing so, touch the divine and the deeply human all at once.

In The Prince of Egypt (1998), Kilmer was the soul of the film. As Moses, he portrayed a man torn between two identities, called to lead his people in a time of impossible odds. But even more profoundly, Kilmer was also the voice of God in the film—a subtle, poetic decision by the filmmakers to suggest that the divine speaks through us. And somehow, through Kilmer’s voice, it did. His performance remains one of the most moving and spiritual moments in animated cinema. Every Church kid has watched the Prince of Egypt when their Student Pastor was too tired to preach.

Kilmer’s career was defined by his ability to embody legends and contradictions. He was Iceman in Top Gun, the cool and confident foil to Tom Cruise’s Maverick. He became Jim Morrison in The Doors, not just impersonating but becoming the tortured rock poet in a performance that still burns with wild energy. He was Batman, Doc Holliday, and even Mark Twain—never choosing roles for safety, but for challenge, for complexity.

His journey was not without struggle. Kilmer battled throat cancer for years, losing much of his voice but never his spirit. In his later years, he found new ways to communicate, create, and inspire. His documentary Val revealed a man of deep thought, humor, and faith—still searching, still creating, still hoping.

In The Prince of Egypt, Moses asks God, “Who am I to lead these people?” God replies, in Kilmer’s own voice: “I will be with you.” That moment resonates now more than ever.

Val Kilmer may be gone from this earth, but his voice—the one that called down plagues and parted seas, that whispered poetry and shouted truth—remains. His legacy is not only in the roles he played, but in the way he made us believe in something bigger.

Val, I hope you knew what you meant to us. If I see you in heaven, know you can be my wingman anytime.