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

It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply