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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in film history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply