🔗 Share this article

It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new 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 talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply