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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply