Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Review: An Icon with a Temper

Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his absences and drinking.
Young Anthony Hopkins
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: β€œBecause they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. β€œWe're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: β€œSay sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: β€œHe is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply
John Sanders DDS
John Sanders DDS

A technology journalist and cultural analyst based in London, focusing on digital innovation and its societal implications across the UK.