We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Analysis: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature
Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.
A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.
Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.
Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach.
The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”
The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.
Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.
During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?
He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”
He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply