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

It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply