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

Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply