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It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. 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 performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply