Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Insights: A Legend with a Temper
Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.
Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.
He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The title originates 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, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”
The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – 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 drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.
Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.
During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?
He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”
He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply