🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply