Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper

Many consider it the most memorable introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.
Hopkins as a child
Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: β€œDue to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. β€œWe are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: β€œApologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: β€œHe does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply
George Hanson
George Hanson

Lena is een ervaren onderwijsjournalist en studiekeuze-expert. Ze helpt scholieren met onafhankelijk advies.