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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged 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 to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply