Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Review: A Legend with a Temper
Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.
A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.
He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.
As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.
During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?
He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty 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'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”
Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply