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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls 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. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply