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

Many consider it the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins 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 from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply