Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature
Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.
Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.
Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The book's name comes from an historical picture 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 from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.
Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.
In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?
He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”
Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply