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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply