Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Review: A Legend with a Temper
Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.
The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.
He was not an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”
The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.
Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.
In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell 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 Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?
He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”
Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply
Elara Vance is a seasoned artisan and writer with over a decade of experience in blending traditional craftsmanship with modern innovation, sharing her expertise through detailed guides and thought-provoking articles.