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It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, 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: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply