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It stands as the most memorable introduction in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur 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 maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “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 an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply