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

It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply