We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Insights: A Legend with a Temper
Many consider it the greatest entrance in film history – and he remains completely still.
Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.
He was not unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”
The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.
Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.
During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?
He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”
Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply