🔗 Share this article

It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon 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 luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply