When I see Val Kilmer’s name in a news item, I don’t want it to be alongside Curtis ‘Vitamin Water’ Jackson’s in Streets of Blood or alongside Stephen Dorff’s in Felon. (Sort of a lie, actually; I’ll see Felon in a heatbeat.) And American Cowslip just sounds too goddamn precious to be true (junkie gardener turns a new leaf; Kilmer is the kid’s father) even if it does have a shit-hot cast of olds: Diane Ladd, Rip Torn, Cloris Leachman, Peter Falk and Bruce Dern.

No, I want my Kilmer either ponytailed or tuberclular, quipping and killing and laying down that character work that gets Shane Black misty-eyed.

Do I think I’m going to get it in Silver Cord, a SAG-waivered indie about a guy whose brother was declared clinically dead several times, but came back from each one until the one time he didn’t? No, I don’t think so, either.