Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: A Legend with a Temper
Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.
Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's captivating film persona.
He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences 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 playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”
The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.
Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.
In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?
He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”
Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply
