🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply