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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. 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 by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply