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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part 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 preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor 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 him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply