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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! 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 came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply