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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply