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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply