🔗 Share this article Exploring Anthony Hopkins' Autobiography We Did OK, Kid – Analysis: An Icon Known for His Fiery Nature Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle. Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona. He was not a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use. Hopkins in 1941, aged three, on Aberavon beach. The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!” The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly. Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award. During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so? He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!” Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply