Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: An Icon with a Temper

It stands as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply