🔗 Share this article

It stands as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply