Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper
Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.
Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.
Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”
The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.
As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.
During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?
He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”
He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply