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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal 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 Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. 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 maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply