All his life, Anthony Hopkins has wrestled with a dual personality. He is, as he himself admits, part dedicated craftsman, part wild boy. Like fellow Welshman Richard Burton, with whom he studiously avoids comparison, Hopkins has been plagued by temperament, drink problems and erratic career decisions. His moody behavior earned many enemies. In his turmoil his first marriage failed, and, many claimed, he lost his direction. By 1975, he had peaked and sunk. The glory days were over. Then, at the lowest ebb, he abruptly quit drinking after a marathon binge. It was the turning point. The most creative period of Hopkins’ career ensued, with a string of sterling performances in quality films, and he went on to earn unqualified international respect. His work improved with this new discipline and – inevitably, it seems – matured in a succession of modern classics that led to his Oscar-winning performance in The Silence of the Lambs, and then to acclaim in Howards End, The Remains of the Day and Shadowlands. Since The Silence of the Lambs, Hopkins has been unusually accessible and talkative. His reflective analysis has been honest and he has spoken widely about the inner turmoil that inspired his invention of the carnivorous Lechter in the film. He has been candid, but he has also limited the areas of this public soul-search. In Michael Feeney Callan’s new revelatory biography, no stone is unturned. Callan interviews a wide range of associates, friends and fellow actors to provide the true, previously hidden, story of Anthony Hopkins’ fall and rise. The book unveils a story of an actor’s obsession to conquer America – and his own demons. It is a stark and startling tale of paranoia, hope, loneliness and triumph.