We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Analysis: A Legend with a Temper
Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.
The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.
He was not an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and drinking.
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.
The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”
The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.
Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.
In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?
He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”
Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply