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

Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws 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, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply