We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Review: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature

Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.
Young Anthony Hopkins
Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply
Dylan Carter
Dylan Carter

A lighting technology expert with over a decade of experience in smart home automation and sustainable energy solutions.