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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again 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. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply