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

Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply