🔗 Share this article

It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown 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 was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply