🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again 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 went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply