🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play 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