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It stands as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply