Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature
It stands as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.
The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.
Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”
The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.
As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.
During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?
He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! 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 an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King 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