Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Insights: An Icon with a Temper

It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply