🔗 Share this article

Many consider it the most memorable entrance in film history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! 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 an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply