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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes 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 couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression 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! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply