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Many consider it the greatest entrance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as 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 cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply