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

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

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply