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It stands as the greatest appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected 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 successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from 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