🔗 Share this article Anthony Hopkins' Memoir: We Did OK, Kid – Review: A Legend with a Temper Many consider it the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless. A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona. He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's 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 paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits. Anthony Hopkins as a toddler on the beach in 1941. The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!” The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly. As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar. During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really? He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!” Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply