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Many consider it the greatest appearance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student 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 seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply