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It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came 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 must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply