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

It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar 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, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply