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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence 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