Bob Hoskins got typecast as a thug early in his career when he was working in the theater. He's pretty sure it was his build that did it.

"When you are 5-foot-6 and sort of cubic and you walk on a stage where the other actors are very lithe, people tend to think of you a certain way," he says.

Not that Hoskins is complaining. He's been plenty busy playing toughs -- most memorably a gangster on the make in "The Long Good Friday" in 1981 and a small- time hood hired to chauffeur a prostitute on her rounds in "Mona Lisa" in 1986.

Recently his screen persona helped him land his juiciest role in years in "Felicia's Journey," opening November 19. Hoskins plays a shy catering manager with a chilling double life fed by his obsession with lonely young women. The film was directed by Atom Egoyan, known for such psychologically disturbing films as "The Sweet Hereafter" and "Exotica."

"Every actor who is well known brings baggage to a role," Hoskins says. "A lot of the baggage I bring to a character is violence. I think that was one of the reasons why Atom cast me, because although I am playing this very dull, passive asexual sort of being, I am still Bob Hoskins, and I am known for hanging people up on meat hooks."

Leaning over on a sofa in his hotel room, Hoskins, 57, rubs his head as he talks. The gesture calls attention to his hands, which are disproportionately large.

"I have hands like bunches of sausages," he says. "They look strong, like there is a potential for violence in them."

His hands are used to great effect in "Felicia's Journey." Sitting in a car with an innocent Irish teenager (played by newcomer Elaine Cassidy) who has made the mistake of trusting him, he folds and unfolds his hands as if they will do harm unless he keeps them occupied. Hoskins makes the very act of putting on gloves seem menacing.

He also uses his hands to massage a marinade onto a turkey and a rack of lamb. Hoskins' character is the son of a celebrated chef who had a cooking show on TV. Every night he puts on a video of her show and does the lesson in unison with his dead mother.

Hoskins is really convincing in these kitchen scenes. Was this just acting?

"Oh no, I love to cook," he says. "Cooking to me is like therapy. I do ornate dinners all the time at home. Even when I'm working hard, like on this movie, I'll still cook for the family."

He lives in North London with his wife, Linda, and their two teenagers. Hoskins has two grown children from an earlier marriage that ended in divorce. Asked if his wife works, he says with a laugh, "Yeah, she looks after me. That's a full-time job."

Their home isn't far from where Hoskins grew up. His earliest memories are of being hustled into a bomb shelter during World War II. He dropped out of school at 15. "I hated school, and school hated me," he recalls.

After a series of odd jobs, including as a circus fire-eater and a steeplejack, he went along with a friend who was auditioning for an amateur theater production.

"They thought I was there to audition, too. The next thing I knew I was cast as the lead," he says. "I'd never thought about acting. I didn't know any actors, so it was like brain surgery to me. But once I got on a stage it felt right."

With all the violent roles Hoskins has played, it's ironic that he is best known in this country for the 1988 G-rated Disney film "Who Framed Roger Rabbit." Because of video, Hoskins still catches children eyeing him, trying to figure out if he is the guy from the movie. Once in Los Angeles, a boy followed him into a restaurant.

"His dad told me he was hoping if he stayed close enough to me the next time they whipped me off to Toon Town, they'd take him with me."

Hoskins hasn't pursued a big Hollywood career. For one thing, he never felt like moving across the Atlantic. "What Hollywood does is great. But you don't live there. I have a life apart from all that."

There are roles Hoskins wishes he had gotten, but he doesn't dwell on them. And there was one role he was well compensated for even though he didn't do it.

"I met with Brian De Palma when he was casting `The Untouchables,' " Hoskins says. "He told me he really wanted Robert De Niro to play Al Capone, but that De Niro was pretty hard to tie down. Then he said, `If De Niro doesn't do it, can I come to you at the last moment?' I said, `Yeah, if I'm not working. I'm not going to put myself out of work waiting, but if I can do it I'll be delighted.' "

Some time later, Hoskins read in the paper that De Niro was going to be in the movie. "I forgot all about it after that." One day, as his wife was going through the mail, she handed him an envelope from De Palma. Inside was a note saying, "Thanks for your time. Love, Brian" -- along with a check for $200,000.

"I phoned him right away and said, `Brian, you got any other movies you don't want me to be in, I'm your boy.' "

For the past two years, so many people have been paying him to work that Hoskins has decided he isn't going to do any more films for a while. In quick succession, he played ousted Panamanian military leader Manuel Noriega and a pornographer in a French film about the porn industry in Los Angeles. "It's completely a farce. It ain't `Boogie Nights,' " Hoskins says.

He will also be seen on television in adaptations of "David Copperfield" and "Don Quixote."

It would seem that the queen would take note of a career as long and varied as his. But Hoskins laughs at the notion that he might be up for knighthood.

"Forget it," he says. "Being knighted is like a bowler hat. They're very nice, but I ain't wearing one."

©1999 San Francisco Chronicle