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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. 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 of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply