Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Review: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature

Many consider it the most iconic entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence 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 to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward 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 deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply