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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply