We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Insights: An Icon with a Temper

Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply