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

Many consider it the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: 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.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role 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 movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply