We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Review: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature

It stands as the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply