🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged 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 on screen, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply