🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name 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 develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply