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

Many consider it the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply