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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring 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 deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be 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 from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply