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Many consider it the greatest appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious 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 with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply