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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child 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 scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply