Anthony Hopkins on Sobriety, Success and Hollywood Grit

There’s a catalyzing moment near the beginning of Sir Anthony Hopkins’ memoir, We Did OK, Kid (Summit Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster; Nov. 4), when he decides to make something of himself. A mediocre high school student and self-described loner, he’s standing listlessly in his family home in Wales while his mother and father—supportive but disappointed—read yet another dismal school report. Hopkins has a novel flash of resolve: “One day I’ll show you,” he tells them. “I’ll show both of you.” And show them he did. Within a few short years, he’d hit the big time, performing in leading roles in London’s National Theatre, then quickly becoming a bona fide movie star.

Hopkins, 87, spoke with Bloomberg Businessweek about his almost nine decades of disappointments (substance abuse, relationship issues) and triumphs (getting sober, career success). This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

You write a lot about your struggle with alcohol at the beginning of your career, when success followed success. Now that you’re sober, do you feel ambivalent about those early achievements?  If you have an addiction, it usually is coupled with fear and anger, and a sense of “I’ll show the world.” It fuels you, and you have courage. I had a lot of courage.  I’d drink anything I couldn’t chew, because it fed me—that rage and anger. And of course it’s like jet fuel, but then at a certain place in your life, it comes to one thinking, “Hold on, this is burning me up.” And that’s what happened to me 50 years ago. I thought, “This is going to kill me.” I look back and think I was so fortunate to have been given an opportunity to diffuse that craving, whatever it was. But I wouldn’t have missed it. It got me here, in a strange way.

One of the really lovely things in the book is that your parents were around to witness your rise to fame.  That’s what I’m so grateful about, that they lived long enough to see it. They came out here, to California. And we went to various events through my successful years, and my father was then in his 60s, 70s, I think, and he was very moved by what he saw. He looked at me, and he said, “How the hell did you achieve this?” I said, “I have no idea.” He and my mother were sort of appalled: How the hell did their problem boy get to work with these enormous figures of fame and stature? How did this dimwit do it? And to this day, I still don’t know.

Well, for one thing, you seem to have worked very hard.  I was cunning, that was my gift. I was beginning to creep up the ladder, you know, to success and all that. I thought, “I’ve got a problem here, I don’t know if I’m bright enough to do this.” I realized that the only way through was to learn the text so clearly, by working painstakingly every night until I went to sleep. By doing that, I discovered that hidden in the words is the very nature of the person you are playing. It was just remarkable. And from that point on, I went to the National Theatre and worked with Laurence Olivier, people like that. And that was my format. Just know the stuff, show up on time and give a hundred percent. The preparation is all: Know exactly what you’re going to do, and be flexible, but do it. Always be prepared. And be clear.

At this point in your career, do you say no to jobs more often?  I just enjoy the process. I’ve got three or four roles coming up, some of them have gotten the go-ahead and the green light, but what I do is I learn them in case it’s going to happen. I think the best thing for me is to show up in the morning. You go in, get changed, go on the set—“Morning, everyone”—and action. It’s a wonderful way of life.

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