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It stands as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers 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 Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye 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. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply