We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Insights: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature
Many consider it the greatest introduction in movie lore – while he stands completely still.
A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.
He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”
The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.
As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.
In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?
He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”
Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply
