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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names 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 develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply