Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature

Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply