Anthony Hopkins turned 85 on New Year’s Eve and has no strong feelings about it. He has already had his 60th, 70th, and 80th birthdays. The next one will perhaps involve a candle. Hollywood correspondent Nellee Holmes spoke with him about The Father, dementia, painting, and the philosophy of not making a big deal of things.
Nellee Holmes: The Father is one of the most extraordinary performances I have seen. What does the word illusion mean to you?
Anthony Hopkins: Looking back at my own life, it all seems to be a bit of an illusion — as if somebody else wrote the script and I acted it out. I cannot take credit for very much of it. How did I get here? How have I survived all these years and still feel so much of me? When I watched the film, I saw my father in me on the screen. I had not consciously played it that way. But there he was — his belligerence, his particular kind of toughness. NH: What do you do to maintain your mental and physical health? AH: I work out five days a week. I read a great deal. I practise meditation. I play piano five days a week — complicated pieces — not because I want to perform, but because it keeps the brain active. I memorise things. And I stay cheerful, even when dark moods arrive, which they do in every human life. NH: You have said you are a carnival person. What do you mean by that? AH: I show up on the job, do it wherever we are — Paris, Rome, Budapest — and then move on to the next project. It is like being in the middle of a carnival. I was fascinated by the circus as a boy: its chaos, its freedom, its refusal to stay in one place. I am not obsessive. I do not need things in their proper place. I like freedom. NH: What is the key to the kind of acting you do? AH: Listening. Laurette Taylor, the great American stage actress, said the art of acting is listening. If you listen to the other person as if you are hearing what they are saying for the first time, everything stays fresh. You do not have to manufacture anything. Meryl Streep, asked whether great acting required intense concentration, said intensity is the last thing you need. That is true. You loosen up, learn your lines well enough that they become second nature, and then you just drive the car. NH: What do you hope people take from The Father? AH: The most tragic thing about life is that we all have to face death. None of us gets off this planet alive. Knowing that, we might as well enjoy living. T.S. Eliot put it best: I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal footman hold my coat and snicker.