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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived 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 elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply