🔗 Share this article

It stands as the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply