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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply