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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply