Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature

Many consider it the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply