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

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply