Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Review: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature

Many consider it the greatest entrance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry 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 an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply