🔗 Share this article

It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply