🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply