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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as 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 get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply