Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Review: A Legend with a Temper

It stands as the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply