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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply