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

It stands as the most memorable appearance in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get 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 pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply