🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. 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 in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply