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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply