🔗 Share this article Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless. A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma. Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and his alcohol use. A young Hopkins at three years old on Aberavon beach. The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!” The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears. Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award. In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so? He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!” He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply