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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange 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 surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply