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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in film history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

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. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply