🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal 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 next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply