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

Many consider it the most memorable introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly 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 back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious 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 but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King 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