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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, 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 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims 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. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal 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 second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. 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 near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply