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

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of 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 him being away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character 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 displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “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! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply