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

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “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! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply