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

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

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.
Hopkins in his early years
A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential 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 luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply
Mark Savage
Mark Savage

A tech journalist with over a decade of experience covering innovations and digital trends.