You know him as Hannibal Lecter. You know the chilling stillness, the way he can hold a frame with just a flicker of his eyes. But there’s a side to the man that lived in a drawer for nearly fifty years. Most people have no clue that before the Oscars and the knighthood, Sir Anthony Hopkins was a kid in Wales who just wanted to write melodies.
Anthony Hopkins composed music long before he ever stepped onto a film set. It wasn't just a hobby. It was a primary passion that he nearly walked away from because of a profound, soul-crushing insecurity. He genuinely thought it wasn't good enough.
Imagine being one of the greatest actors in history and being terrified that your waltz might be "rubbish." That's the reality. It’s a bit humanizing, isn't it?
The Waltz That Waited Half a Century
In 1964, a young Hopkins sat down and wrote a piece called And the Waltz Goes On. He was in his late twenties, still finding his feet in the acting world. He finished the score, looked at it, and then... he hid it.
He didn't show it to a conductor. He didn't play it for his peers. He simply tucked the sheet music away, convinced that the world of classical music would laugh him out of the room. It stayed there, gathering dust, for almost five decades.
Then came André Rieu.
If you haven’t seen the video of the 2011 premiere in Vienna, go find it. It's visceral. Hopkins is sitting in the audience, looking like a nervous student at a recital. When the Johann Strauss Orchestra starts playing those first few notes, you see his face crumble and rebuild itself in real-time. He’s hearing his own soul, written 47 years prior, finally echoing through a concert hall.
The music is lush. It’s sweeping. It has this sort of old-world, melancholic European vibe that feels like a memory of a time that never actually existed. Honestly, it’s beautiful. It doesn't sound like "celebrity vanity music." It sounds like a composer who understood the architecture of a waltz.
Not Just a One-Hit Wonder
While the waltz is the famous story, it’s not the only time Anthony Hopkins composed music for the public. He actually has a surprisingly deep catalog.
He wrote the score for his 1996 film August, an adaptation of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya. Later, he composed for Slipstream in 2007. There is a specific kind of atmospheric, almost haunting quality to his work. It’s rarely "happy" in a Hallmark sense. It’s complicated.
In 2011, he released an album titled Anthony Hopkins: Composer. It was recorded with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. It wasn't some niche release that disappeared into the ether; it actually topped the classical charts for weeks.
What the Critics (and the Ears) Say
If you listen to the album, you’ll find tracks like Margam and 1947. They are deeply personal. Margam is named after the area in Port Talbot where he grew up. You can hear the Welsh landscape in it—the rain, the heavy skies, the industrial grit mixed with green hills.
- The Style: It leans into Neo-Romanticism. Think Sibelius or perhaps a bit of Elgar.
- The Complexity: It's not "easy" music. There are strange time signatures and sudden shifts in mood.
- The Piano: Hopkins is a classically trained pianist. He still practices every day. In the movie The Two Popes, he actually tricked the production. They wanted him to play Mozart, but he found it "boring" for the scene. He played his own composition instead, and it stayed in the final cut because it just felt more authentic.
Why He Kept It Secret
We often put legends on a pedestal, assuming they have zero self-doubt. But Hopkins has talked openly about his Asperger’s diagnosis and how it shaped his solitary nature. Music was his private world.
He once said he was "too shy" to be a professional musician. Acting was a mask. Composing was too revealing. When you act, you’re saying someone else’s words. When you compose, every note is yours. There’s nowhere to hide.
It took his wife, Stella Arroyave, to bridge the gap. She was the one who sent the score to André Rieu. She knew that if it were up to Tony, that music would have died in a piano bench.
Actionable Takeaways for the Curious Listener
If you want to actually explore the musical side of Sir Anthony, don't just stop at the YouTube clips.
- Listen to 'Margam': This is arguably his most sophisticated work. It shows his range beyond the 3/4 time of a waltz.
- Watch 'The Two Popes' Piano Scene: Now that you know it’s his own music, the scene takes on a completely different weight. It’s a moment of a man playing his own internal monologue.
- Find the Birmingham Recording: The Composer album (2012) is the definitive collection. It includes Stella, a piece he wrote for his wife, which is incredibly tender.
The lesson here is pretty simple, even if it feels a bit cliché. Most of us have a "waltz" in a drawer somewhere. We’re afraid it’s not good enough, or that people will see the "real" us and not like it. If a man like Anthony Hopkins can be scared to share his art, it’s okay if you are too. But maybe, eventually, you should let someone play it.
Next time you see him on screen, remember: he's not just an actor. He's a composer who finally got brave enough to listen.
Practical Next Steps
To get the full experience of Hopkins' musicality, start by streaming the album Anthony Hopkins: Composer on any major platform. Pay close attention to the track 1947 - The Plaza. It captures a very specific, cinematic nostalgia that helps explain why he transitioned so naturally from music to the screen. If you're a musician yourself, the sheet music for And the Waltz Goes On is actually available for purchase—it's a great study in classical structure for intermediate players.