We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Review: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature
Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.
Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.
Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.
Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.
In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?
He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”
He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply