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

Many consider it the greatest appearance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar 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, as well as his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – 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 perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “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 but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply