If Hopkins was going to use this as a career launchpad, he needed to knuckle down into his research. So, he set out to acquire the novel of the same name by the American journalist George Feifer on which the script was based. The book had been published in the US the previous year, in 1971. So, Hopkins set out to pick up a copy from a bookstore on London’s Charing Cross Road. He hopped on the tube and headed off, only to be informed by the shopkeeper that the book was not yet available in the UK.

With that, Hopkins turned on his heels, headed to Leicester Square station, and mulled over how best to order a copy from the US in time for his audition. As he sat down on a bench and awaited his train, he noticed the pages of an abandoned bound manuscript fluttering in the breeze alongside him. He moseyed over and, to his astonishment, found that he was flicking through the pages of The Girl from Petrovka.

This was a gally edition complete with editorial annotations for the UK market. So, not only did Hopkins manage to get a copy of the book, he essentially found a personalised print – the first person to see this UK-tailored edition, no less – with extra contextualising information. He read it in a sitting, ventured off to his audition and landed the role. 

A year after finding the manuscript, Hopkins travelled to Vienna to begin filming the feature. There he found the author, George Feifer. Feifer was there to write an article about what it is like to see your novel being brought cinematically to life. The rather retiring Feifer found the film set environment to be rather overwhelming, so he skulked around backstage, where he bumped into Hopkins, who was doing just the same, and the typically personable actor put him at ease. 

Feifer explained that he was the writer behind the tale, and Hopkins jokingly complained about the issues he had finding a copy of his book in the UK market. Feifer apologised and said that it was his fault for the lengthy delay between US and UK publications. When he had been in London editing the manuscript, he begrudgingly lent a friend his annotated gally. This rather carefree buddy slung the manuscript into the backseat of his car and parked up on Hyde Park Square. 

Sadly, his car was stolen… and the gally along with it. As Feifer was explaining this, without a word, Hopkins spun around, raced towards his dressing room and returned with the manuscript he found on that fateful bench a few months ago. “Might this copy have some personal meaning to you?” Feifer recalls Hopkins asking as he thrust a familiar-looking wad of paper his way. Of course, as the title of this article suggests, Hopkins wouldn’t be at the centre of a quantum theory if Feifer had simply replied, ‘Never seen that before in my life, mate’.

As it happens, the car thieves must have stolen Feifer’s friend’s vehicle, driven three miles through London and then, at some point down the line, ditched the incriminating book at the train station… just a few moments before Hopkins had been informed that the book wasn’t available in the UK and his hopes of launching his career in Hollywood were dashed. 

Alas, this quirk of fate ensured that Hopkins’ career in Hollywood would take off. The Girl from Petrovka was a small hit despite critical criticism, and Hopkins’ natural charisma shone through to mainstream producers. Roles came thick and fast after that and the Welsh star left London behind and headed to Los Angeles, entering a bright new chapter of his life, that only a few years earlier looked to be doggedly ill-fated. 

With Hopkins’ fame now assured, a few months later, when The Sunday Times asked for submissions from readers about extraordinary coincidences in their life, Feifer saw this as a chance to retell his mystical tale. The scholarly writer Arthur Koestler subsequently came across this piece and it set his mind racing. The academic author began to question whether the universe really is chaos, and he began working on the Hopkins-inspired thesis of The Roots of Coincidence. 

In this novel, Koestler discusses the concepts of synchronicity, a term coined by Carl Jung “to describe circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection.” As it happens, Koestler’s book caused enough of a stir to kick up a synchronicity of its own. With the author’s star rising, The Saturday Review decided to publish a profile on him. The journalist they enlisted to write the piece – apparently by chance without knowing the connection – was none other than Feifer.

In true fashion, that book actually set off a string of further coincidences in this unending tale of twists. Koestler’s novel inspired Sting of The Police to name their final album Synchronicity. Thereafter, when Sting was looking for inspiration as he ventured into acting, who should he turn to but Hopkins (at least kind of). As he told People Magazine regarding his preparation for Gentlemen Don’t Eat Poets: “First I thought that I could just watch an Anthony Hopkins film because he makes such a good butler,” says Sting. “Then I did one better. I hired the guy who taught Anthony how to buttle.”

And in one final turn, in 1986, a British casting agent was looking to hire a star for a film that follows an author on a promotional tour of her book 84 Charing Cross Road. This was the address of the very bookstore that Hopkins had been turned away from or decade earlier. So, when the role of the bookstore owner was offered to him, fate made sure that he couldn’t refuse. 

Tom Taylor

Source: https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/how-anthony-hopkins-became-the-centre-of-the-quantum-theory-of-coincidence/