Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature

Many consider it the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply