Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper
Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.
A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.
Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.
Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.
In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?
He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “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! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”
Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply
