🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply