🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply