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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply