NEW YORK, NY.- Anthony Hopkins has advice for any aspiring actor: Speak clearly.

“If you whisper, you sound sexy,” he said during a recent video call. “But I can’t hear you. What’s the story? Tell the story. Stop mumbling.”

Though Hopkins, 86, has won two Oscars (“The Silence of the Lambs,” “The Father”), a pair of Emmys and a Laurence Olivier award, he still insists that acting is mostly just enunciating. “It’s just showing up,” he said. This summer, he can be heard, clearly, in “Those About to Die,” a 10-episode series set amid the blood and sand of a Roman amphitheater. It premieres on Peacock on July 18. Hopkins plays Vespasian, a general-turned-emperor who ordered the construction of what would become the Roman Colosseum.

“Those About to Die” allowed Hopkins to return to Cinecittà, the famed Italian studio where he filmed “The Two Popes.” And it continues his interest, demonstrated in projects such as “Freud’s Last Session,” “The Father,” “Westworld” and even as far back as “Nixon” and “The Remains of the Day,” in playing men in the waning of their power.

Though Hopkins appears in few scenes of “Those About to Die” (anyone familiar with the ancient Roman timeline can guess why), he is fully in command of his own capacities. His Vespasian is infirm of body, not purpose. Facing down his legacy, Vespasian scolds his sons (played by Jojo Macari and Tom Hughes), dismissing their advice and praise.

“I had to be tough on them and no nonsense,” Hopkins said.

Roland Emmerich, the show’s director, wanted Hopkins for that sternness. “He plays a little bit like a gruff guy,” Emmerich said in a recent interview. He also suspected that Hopkins could play Vespasian’s canniness as he contends with both the aristocracy and the people. And that he could make that realpolitik pleasurable.

“He has this likability,” Emmerich said. “He played Hannibal Lecter and was still lovable.”

During the video call, Hopkins was only occasionally gruff and, yes, often lovable. (A man who has a way with a twinkle, he has amassed millions of followers on TikTok.) These days, he views his career, he said, “with a sense, not of self-congratulation, but a sense of fun.”

In the course of a half-hour chat he discussed history, humble origins and his ambivalence toward the green screen, with no mumbling. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

Q: Did you know much about Vespasian?

A: In school, history was my strong spot. But I was not a very good student; I was easily distracted. Gradually, over the years, I began reading about the history of Europe. I knew hardly anything about Vespasian. I knew that he was one of the four emperors. I knew that he founded the Flavian dynasty, brought fiscal reform to the Roman Empire, consolidation of the empire, the building projects and the idea of distraction and entertainment for the people, because people were suffering. You go crazy if you don’t have a distraction.

Q: So if it wasn’t the character that drew you to the series, what was it?

A: Well, my agent said, I’ve got a script for you: “Those About to Die.” I said, “That’s Roman? Gladiatorial?” He said yes. I read it and I said, yes, I’d like to do it. I like Cinecittà. What I really admire so much is the craftsmanship that the Italian craftspeople put into their work. The detail is extraordinary. Hand-carving, that’s an art in itself. All an actor has to do is show up and say, “OK, where do you want me to stand?” And Roland Emmerich was a strong director. That makes it easy. Just absorb the atmosphere. It’s not a question of method, of being Stanislavskian or anything like that. It’s just showing up.

Q: “Those About to Die” marries that craftsmanship with some tremendous digital effects. Do you like working with CGI?

A: I’m amazed by it. I watch the scenes of the amphitheater and I’m astounded by the genius of computer graphics. I don’t know how anyone does that; I don’t have a brain that can even begin to know how to use a phone. The chariot races and the special effects, wow, it’s amazing. When I’m sitting there, and there’s a green screen and I’ve got to pretend that I’m watching a race; it’s baffling to me. I feel a sense that it’s all a trick. Well, acting is a trick. It’s not becoming someone else; I don’t change myself. I come in and present Tony Hopkins as Vespasian. I don’t try to transmogrify into someone else.

They did “Ben-Hur” at Cinecittà — that was a real race. There were injuries, a death. But William Wyler said, I want it all as real as possible. That was the excitement of it, because you were actually watching actors and people close to death. Now with the computer graphics or whatever they’re called, yeah, it works. If it conveys the effect, good. But I prefer the practical side of it.

Q: Vespasian was, of course, a real man. Do you feel any responsibility when you’re playing a real person, however ancient?

A: Well, I was playing Freud recently, on the film. And Nixon, I played him as well. No, I don’t feel any responsibility.

Q: Nixon came from a farming family. In his early career, Vespasian was known as a mule trader. You’ve spoken about your own background, as the son of a baker. Do you feel a kinship with these men?

A: Yes, I do. I come from South Wales. My father sacrificed to give me an education, which didn’t take because I was not bright enough. A learning deficiency, I guess. I remember saying to him, “One day, I’ll show you.” My father said, “Well, I hope you do.” Within a decade, my life changed. How did this happen? I’ve no idea. I cannot take credit for any of it. Some drive in the brain probably pushed me forward. I don’t know. I don’t understand.

Q: You’ve played men — Nixon, Freud, Vespasian, Anthony in “The Father” — in the twilight of their lives. Is that interesting to you?

A: It is. I’m mystified at my age that they want me to work. I still get offers of work, a lot of work in fact. I keep myself fit and well and strong. I keep on top of it all. I’m amazed every time I wake up — I can’t believe I have reached this age. That gives me a tremendous amount of energy to move forward, to do more. I think, next year, well, I may be around, maybe I won’t. It’s given me a sense of fatality in a good way. I’ve emptied my mind of all the turmoil, all the I’ve-got-to-prove-myself. I don’t have to prove anything.

There’s a paradox there: The moment you give up trying to prove yourself, things begin to happen. I guess it’s so-called surrender. Once you stop trying to figure out how to make a life for yourself, it’s done for you. I look at my life and I think, ‘Good God, what’s that all about?’ I still to this day, look back and think, ‘What on Earth happened?’

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.