🔗 Share this article

It stands as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield 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, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply