Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper
Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.
The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.
He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.
Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach.
The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.
As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.
In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?
He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”
He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply