Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature

Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply