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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it 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 memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply