Anthony Hopkins on mortality, music's dark side and its healing power

Sir Anthony Hopkins explores memories and mortality in his new album Life Is a Dream Sir Anthony Hopkins is one of the most recognised and celebrated actors in Hollywood. From the chilling Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs, to the reserved butler Mr Stevens in The Remains of the Day and the deeply moving Anthony in The Father, the Welsh actor is renowned for his magnetic screen presence and emotional depth. In recent years, however, Hopkins has also embraced his lifelong passion for music and talent for composition. At 88, Hopkins is releasing a new album following his signing with Decca Classics, one of the world's most prestigious classical music labels. Titled Life Is a Dream, the album showcases orchestral compositions Hopkins has written over the past six decades. Hopkins shares his enduring love of music and reflects on the opportunities he found to learn from composers and conductors throughout his acting career in Hollywood with Megan Burslem on ABC Classic Breakfast. What was it like to grow up in South Wales? When I was seven, my mother said to my music teacher: "I want you to teach him Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata." That was the first, very complex classical music piece that I learned as a boy, which I had to practise very slowly. Then I went with my parents to a concert in the Sophia Gardens in South Wales, and I got [the pianist's] autograph. Then I heard Vaughan Williams's Lark Ascending, and the Thomas Tallis Overture, and the old MGM musicals. The music from all those great artists still cut right into me. How did you become a composer? I have a very limited education musically. I played the piano when I was a kid, but being lazy-minded or something, I got bored with theory and all that. So, I left the piano, but I was still practising and picking up when I could read music. There was a music shop in South Wales where I could buy manuscript paper, and I'd be writing bits of harmonies. But my brain was all over the place and I didn't quite know how to organise it. Many years later, I met George Fenton, who wrote the music for a film called Shadowlands. I always loved visiting the scoring of any film, going to the studio to watch the conductors like George Fenton or John Williams. And many years ago, [Fenton] told me: "You can write music; you're a composer". I, as we all are, [was] riddled with self-doubt, thinking, 'well, I'm not really.' It's called the impostor syndrome. I think we tend to lie to ourselves, thinking 'Oh, I can't do that.' But how do you know until you try? So that's what I do. What was it like hearing your music brought to life by Gustavo Dudamel and the LA Philharmonic? It was surreal. I met the conductor, Gustavo Dudamel, through Bradley Cooper and another friend of ours. He flew in from Spain, I think, and conducted the whole piece over two days. What has music taught you about life? I think music reflects pain and sorrow. Arthur Schopenhauer said that music transcends all human experience. It's not a language we understand. It has nothing to do with human behaviour or human speech, but it has an extraordinary way of expressing ourselves. But in my own life, I'm now aware, that life is one long, long goodbye. From the moment we're born, we say goodbye to childhood, we say goodbye to adolescence, and eventually we say goodbye altogether. At the end of it all is hello, my love, and goodbye, my love. And that's the theme of life, that nothing is permanent. It doesn't make one miserable. In fact, it's a kind of solace because there's nothing I can do about it. I'm here. And one day I will not be here. Did music help you access the darker emotions required for characters like Hannibal Lecter? Hannibal Lecter was just a job for me. He was just a guy I played. I'm not really like that. But it let me access the darker side of myself, the connection with the melancholy side of my music which takes the form of grief. We're here on this planet so briefly. We look to this day for this life, the very life of life. And before we know it, we can waste so much time. And because I was limited in school as a boy, I decided that those limitations would be the power behind me, which would force me to survive and create and do whatever I have to do. So I've been very creative based on — I don't want to use the word villainy — but based on the dark negative side of oneself, the demons that actually hold you back, I'd challenge them and say: "Why not?" What did the Los Angeles wildfires teach you about the power of music to bring hope and comfort? [Last week], Rick Caruso [opened] the Pacific Palisades new village after the fires that happened in 2025. And they're using my music, Fanfare in March, with the John Williams Orchestra as the opening. The fire has been devastating for many thousands of people who lost a great deal or so. We lost our house as well. We lost everything here. But we're about to move into the new house in the first week of September. The upshot is that I'm glad they can use my music to pick up the spirits again. Do you have any messages for your Australian fans? Good on you, mate, chuck a U-ey and keep laughing. This interview has been edited for clarity from a conversation on ABC Classic Breakfast with Megan Burslem. Hear more of the interview at 8am, Friday 21 August on ABC Classic.