We Did OK, Kid: A Memoir by Anthony Hopkins – Insights: An Icon with a Temper

Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply