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

Many consider it the greatest introduction in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. 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. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply