Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Review: A Legend Known for His Fiery Nature

It stands as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, 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 with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply