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

Many consider it the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent 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