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It stands as the greatest entrance in film history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll 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 grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield 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 poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply