Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Review: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature
It stands as the most memorable introduction in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.
A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.
He was not an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”
The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.
As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking 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 film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.
During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?
He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”
He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply