🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented him being 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 would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented 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 young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son 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, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply