🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward 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.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply