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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply