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Many consider it the greatest appearance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply