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

Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with 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 playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply