We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Insights: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature
Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.
A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.
Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.
Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach.
The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated 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, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.
Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.
In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?
He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”
He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply