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

Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company 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 Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years 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 his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply