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Many consider it the greatest appearance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 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 playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply