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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply