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

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply