Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Review: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature
It stands as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.
A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.
He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and drinking.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”
The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: 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.
Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.
In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?
He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”
He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply