🔗 Share this article

Many consider it the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play 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