🔗 Share this article

Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned 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 path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply