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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring 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 character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment 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 often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply