We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins β Review: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature
Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore β and he remains completely still.
A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.
He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside β the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: βSince they are extremely wealthy!β he raves while traveling there. βWe're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!β
The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind β without prior preparation β and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada β a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.
Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration β much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism β but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father β his second Academy Award.
During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?
He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: βApologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!β Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: βHe does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit β he is compelled to be honest!β
Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply