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

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

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child 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 Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply