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It stands as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply