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It stands as the most iconic entrance in film history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, 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 with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

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 an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know 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 an extensive addendum composed simply