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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply