If you try to picture Leo Tolstoy’s sprawling, chaotic masterpiece today, you probably see grand ballrooms, muddy battlefields, and a lot of Russian angst. But for a certain generation of TV lovers, the definitive face of that entire world belongs to a young, surprisingly soft-featured Welshman. Long before he was eating liver with fava beans or playing a Norse god, Anthony Hopkins was Pierre Bezukhov.
People forget how massive this was. We’re talking about the 1972 BBC production of War and Peace with Anthony Hopkins, a twenty-part marathon that basically set the template for every "prestige" miniseries that followed. It wasn't just a show; it was an event.
Honestly, the casting of Hopkins as Pierre was a stroke of genius that almost didn't feel like genius at the time. He wasn't a "star" yet. He was a stage actor with a few film credits, known mostly for a certain intensity that simmered just under the skin. In the novel, Pierre is this hulking, socially awkward, illegitimate son of a count who wanders through life trying to find a purpose. He's clumsy. He wears glasses when nobody else does. He’s a mess.
Hopkins nailed the messiness.
The Pierre Problem and How Hopkins Solved It
Most adaptations of War and Peace struggle with Pierre. He’s the heart of the book, but he’s also a bit of a bore if you play him too straight. He spends half the time thinking about Freemasonry and the other half wondering why his wife doesn't love him. It's a tough sell for a leading man.
In the 1972 version, Hopkins makes Pierre’s internal monologue visible. You can see the gears turning. There is a specific scene—one that fans of the series always bring up—where Pierre is just sitting at a table, looking lost. It’s a long take. Most actors would "act" being sad or confused. Hopkins just is. He captures that specific brand of aristocratic existential dread that Tolstoy wrote so well.
He was only in his mid-thirties during filming. It's wild to look back at his performance now, knowing he’d eventually become the screen’s most famous psychopath. Here, he’s vulnerable. He’s almost... sweet? It’s a side of Hopkins that modern audiences rarely get to see, far removed from the cold authority of Westworld or the terrifying stillness of Hannibal Lecter.
Production Scale That Puts Modern CGI to Shame
We get used to seeing thousands of digital soldiers on screen now. It's easy. A guy in a dark room clicks a mouse, and suddenly the Grande Armée is marching on Moscow.
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The 1972 production of War and Peace with Anthony Hopkins didn't have that luxury. When you see a crowd in this version, those are real people. The BBC famously threw a massive budget at this thing—around £750,000, which was an astronomical sum for television in the early seventies. They filmed in Yugoslavia to get the scale of the battles right. They used thousands of territorial soldiers as extras.
The mud was real. The cold looked real. When Hopkins as Pierre wanders onto the battlefield of Borodino in his white top hat and green coat—looking like a man who took a wrong turn at a garden party—the chaos surrounding him feels heavy.
Why the Length Actually Matters
Most movies try to cram War and Peace into two or three hours. That’s a mistake. You can’t fit the Napoleonic Wars and three families' worth of marriages, deaths, and spiritual epiphanies into the length of a Marvel movie.
The 1972 series took fifteen hours.
Because it had the luxury of time, we actually see Pierre grow up. We see his disastrous marriage to Hélène Kuragina (played with a chilling sort of vanity by Fiona Gaunt) and his slow-burn realization that Natasha Rostova is the only thing that matters.
Speaking of Natasha, Morag Hood’s performance is often debated. Some find her too high-strung, but against Hopkins’ grounded, soulful Pierre, the chemistry actually works. It feels like two people who are genuinely ill-equipped for the world they were born into.
Fact-Checking the 1972 Legacy
There are a few things people get wrong about this production. First, it wasn't filmed in Russia. While the Soviet Union had produced its own massive Oscar-winning version just a few years earlier (directed by Sergei Bondarchuk), the BBC version was a distinctly British affair.
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Secondly, Hopkins wasn't the first choice for everyone. There were concerns he was "too intense" for the bumbling Pierre. But David Conroy, the producer, fought for him. He saw that Hopkins could do "quiet" better than anyone else in London at the time.
It’s also worth noting that this wasn't just a hit in the UK. When it finally aired in the States on PBS, it cemented the "Masterpiece Theatre" brand. It proved there was an appetite for long-form, difficult literature on the small screen. Without this, we probably don't get Brideshead Revisited or even Downton Abbey.
Comparing the Hopkins Era to the 2016 Remake
In 2016, the BBC tried again. It was beautiful. Paul Dano played Pierre, and he was fantastic—arguably more "book-accurate" in terms of physicality. The 2016 version had drone shots and better lighting and Lily James.
But there’s a grit to the 1972 version that the new one lacks. The older version feels like a filmed play in parts, sure, but the performances are allowed to breathe. Hopkins has these long, winding dialogues that feel like actual philosophy rather than just plot points.
If you watch them side-by-side, the 1972 version feels more like a lived-in history. The 2016 version feels like a very expensive painting. Both have their merits, but for pure acting masterclasses, the War and Peace with Anthony Hopkins version remains the one that scholars and film buffs go back to. It’s the one that captures the spirit of the book’s obsession with the "Great Man" theory of history—mainly by showing that even the "greatest" men are often just confused, scared, and looking for a decent meal.
The Art of Becoming Pierre
Hopkins has talked in later years about how he approached roles back then. He wasn't a "Method" actor in the way we think of it now, but he was obsessive about the script. He would read his lines hundreds of times until they became reflexive.
In War and Peace, this pays off. Pierre is a character who often says the wrong thing or says nothing at all. Hopkins manages to make those silences feel heavy with meaning. There’s a scene where he’s a prisoner of the French, shivering in the cold, talking to the peasant Platon Karataev. It’s one of the most spiritual moments in literature, and Hopkins plays it with a raw, stripped-back simplicity. No ego. No "acting." Just a man discovering that life is beautiful even when you're starving in a ditch.
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Is It Still Watchable Today?
Let’s be real: it’s 1970s television. The film stock has that slightly grainy, warm look. The pacing is deliberate. If you’re used to TikTok-length edits, the first episode might feel slow.
But if you give it twenty minutes, the immersion kicks in. The costumes are incredible. The set design for the Rostov estate feels like a place people actually live in, not a museum set. And the supporting cast is a "who’s who" of British character actors who would go on to populate every major franchise of the next forty years.
What to Look Out For
- The Battle of Borodino: Episodes 13 and 14 are where the budget really shows.
- The Duel: Pierre’s duel with Dolokhov is awkward, terrifying, and strangely funny—exactly as Tolstoy intended.
- The Moscow Fire: The practical effects used to simulate the burning of the city are genuinely impressive for the era.
How to Experience This Properly
If you're looking to dive into this version, don't try to binge it in a weekend. It wasn't designed for that. It was designed to be lived with over weeks.
- Find the restored version: The DVD transfers vary wildly in quality. Look for the digitally remastered editions to avoid the "muddy" 70s look.
- Read the chapter summaries: If you haven't read the book, having a basic handle on the Bolkonsky vs. Rostov family trees helps.
- Watch Hopkins’ eyes: Seriously. Even when he isn't the focus of a scene, his reactions are what ground the entire production.
The real magic of War and Peace with Anthony Hopkins isn't the scale or the history. It's the human element. It's the reminder that even in the middle of world-shattering wars and political collapse, people are still just trying to figure out who they love and why they’re here.
Hopkins gave us a Pierre who wasn't a hero, but a human. And fifty years later, that’s still the most compelling thing on screen.
Next Steps for the Tolstoy Fan
If you've finished the series and want to go deeper, your best move is to track down the 1972 BBC soundtrack by Wilfred Josephs. The score is haunting and perfectly captures the transition from imperial grandeur to the desolation of war. After that, compare Hopkins' performance to Paul Dano (2016) and Sergei Bondarchuk (1966) to see how three vastly different actors tackled the "Pierre Problem." You’ll find that while others played the character, Hopkins lived him.