🔗 Share this article

It stands as the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in 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 renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply