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Many consider it the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply