Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature

Many consider it the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply