Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Insights: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature
Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.
A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.
Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor 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 deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and drinking.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed 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 the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.
Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.
During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?
He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”
He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply