Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper
Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.
The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.
He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.
The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”
The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.
As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.
In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?
He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”
Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply
