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

It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.
Young Anthony Hopkins
Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected 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 thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply
Kenneth King
Kenneth King

A seasoned iGaming analyst with over a decade of experience in reviewing online casinos and bonus offers, specializing in the Dutch market.