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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply