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

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

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply