We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Review: A Legend with a Temper
It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.
A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.
He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.
Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach.
The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.
Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.
During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?
He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”
He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply